


Double Take

by kcstories



Series: The "Double Take" Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursleys, Abusive Lucius, Bad Dumbledore, Cedric Diggory Lives, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Good Slytherins, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Please do read the warnings in the AN before reading the story, Remus Lupin Lives, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Suicide Attempt, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball, alternate 4th year, supportive narcissa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-30
Updated: 2006-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 60
Words: 84,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Yule Ball didn't go according to plan. An intrigued Draco follows a desolate Harry into a hidden room. Things will never be the same again. (An alternate take on Harry's fourth year).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Yule Ball

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine. Written for fun, not profit.  
> **Warnings - Please DO read these before proceeding:** Violence, Adult Language, Sexual Situations, Self harm, Suicide Attempt, OOC-ness, NOT in any way canon-compliant (please don't ask me how so and so fits into canon, it likely doesn't and was never supposed to), Under 18.  
> **A/N:** This story starts off with the Yule Ball film-style rather than book-style (the film version seemed better suited), and disregards canon after (and partly before) that. Also, this was originally written in March 2006 and completed in June of the same year. It was my first HP fanfic ever and my first story in a very long time, so there are some minor and not-so-minor imperfections--sorry! Still, some people seemed to enjoy this when it was first put up at ff.net, so I'm re-posting it here, too, warts and all. If you choose to proceed, please heed the warnings and watch your step. ;)

The word of the hour was definitely 'tragic'.

The tacky music - if one could still call it that; the outfits (_"Pink, Granger! And I'm not even going to look at you, Weasel or I might be violently ill!"_); the laughable attempts at dancing...

There was a sad sort of irony to the fact that Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, of all people, were among the very few students who carried themselves with something vaguely resembling grace on the dance floor.

Draco Malfoy shook his head, and he quickly grabbed another drink from the tray. Getting totally and utterly plastered might just be the only way to get through this evening with his sanity still in tact.

Well, that and pestering Potter, of course... He looked around the room and wondered where Dumbeldore's Chosen One was hiding.

Ah, there he was! Getting an earful from the Patil twins, who promptly stalked off to dance with... two manly men of Durmstrang. Excellent.

Draco grinned at the pathetic display, before noting that Potter looked just about as tragic as everything else in the room, if not even more so; and not just because of the hideously frilly shirt and poofy hairdo, either.

The expression on Potter's face had Draco doing a double take.

The Pillock Who Lived looked like he was on the verge of tears, or worse. What was that all about, Draco wondered? Surely, it wasn't because of the Patil twits? Did Potter even like those two? Maybe it was because the oh-so-pink disaster was on Krum's arm tonight?

Purely for entertainment purposes, or so he reminded himself, Draco kept a close eye on his long-term rival.

A few minutes later, he saw the boy make his way to the exit.

Too intrigued not to, Draco put down his now empty glass and followed; closely behind, but with enough distance for Potter not to notice.

* * *

Down two flights of stairs, somewhere in a dungeon corridor Malfoy had never been before, he unexpectedly lost sight of Potter.

All right, the prat couldn't have dissolved into thin air, so where did he go?

Draco purposefully pushed against the left wall, then the right wall; he stepped on a few tiles, hoping to open up a secret passage way somewhere... All to no avail.

He was about to give up, when all of a sudden, leaning against a foul-smelling tapestry had him stumbling into a hidden room.

Once he'd regained his composure and made sure no one had seen him lose it in the first place - after all, Malfoys, as a rule, did not "lose it"; he took a better look around.

The dusty, dimly lit room was filled with discarded furniture and old books. There was a stained glass window at the back.

Draco stepped over to have a closer look, and then he spotted the slumped over form of Harry Potter down on the ground. He almost screamed when he saw the blood seeping from the boy's wrists.

_What the hell?_

There hadn't been anyone else in here, he was one hundred percent sure of that, so did this mean...?

It _did_, didn't it?

Harry Potter, Golden Boy, Saviour of the Wizarding World At Large, had been on a mission to off himself.

Draco's head was reeling. All concerns of being caught forgotten, all thoughts of _entertainment purposes_ far out of his mind, he rushed over to the other boy.

"Potter? What in Merlin's name did you do? Can you hear me?"

No response.

Malfoy cursed the Yule Ball for what was probably the hundredth time that night, along with his own decision to attend it wandless. He should have known something was going to happen. After all, _things_ always _happened_ when there was a large gathering of people too distracted or plain pissed out of their minds to pay proper attention.

_Right. Concentrate. You've done it before. You don't need a wand for this._

Draco took a deep breath.

_Find your voice. Concentrate. Ignore the way the blood smells. And don't faint. Malfoys do not faint!_

"Arreste Sangram! Reverse scalpam!" he shouted in the darkness.

Then he looked at Harry again.

He let out a relieved sigh when he realized that the spell was working. The bleeding stopped; the wounds rapidly healed; and thank Merlin, Potter was still breathing.

"Wake up!" Malfoy said again, sounding almost desperate. "Potter!"

* * *

Oblivious to it all, Harry Potter was flying, up on Buckbeak's back.

High in the clouds; sweeping through the skies; a big smile on his face; not a care in the world.

He soared over a green field.

Down on the ground, he could see his parents. They had their arms around each other and were smiling up at him.

Then his father started to shout. "Potter! Potter!"

Why would dad be calling him Potter? That didn't make sense.

Again. "Potter! Potter! Come back!"

Suddenly, Harry felt the world begin to spin.

He wasn't sitting on Buckbeak's back anymore. There was nothing beneath him but solid ground.

Panic washed over him, as he started falling... falling... falling...

With a thump, he felt himself hit the floor.

He kept his eyes tightly shut, suddenly very much aware of a splitting headache and a dull pain in his lower back. Where was he? What the hell had just happened?

Reluctantly, he finally opened his eyes.

The sight that greeted him didn't exactly put an end to his confusion.

A very concerned looking Draco Malfoy was bending over him, saying "Potter!" over and over again. It sounded like an eerie mantra. And were those tears in the Slytherin's eyes?

_Don't be daft. Malfoys don't cry._


	2. Meltdown

"Malfoy?" Harry eventually managed to croak out.

With astonishing ease, anything resembling distress or vulnerability that had been visible on Draco's face only a few moments ago, instantly disappeared.

"Decided to rejoin us at last, Potter?"

Harry couldn't help but flinch at the harshly spoken words.

"Can you get up?"

Harry tried his hardest, only to immediately slump back down again.

"Figures. You've lost a lot of blood. I suppose we'll have to do something about that first."

Malfoy stood up.

"Please. Don't," Harry pleaded.

"Don't what?"

"No hospital wing!"

Draco sighed. "Do I look completely daft to you, Potter? I couldn't even dump you at Pomfrey's if I wanted to."

"Wha— what? Why?"

"Eloquent as ever. Right. How do you suppose I fixed your arms?"

Harry looked down at his wrists. The cuts were gone. They'd vanished completely. Like they had never even been there in the first place.

"No idea," he answered honestly.

"All right. In plain terms, I used a few spells I'm not supposed to know about, in a place I shouldn't even consider casting them."

"Dark Magic?"

"Dark Magic to heal? Not the brightest light in the harbour are we, Potter? Advanced magic. Advanced _Wandless_ magic."

"You know Wandless…“ Harry gulped. “Only highly-trained wizards know... _that_."

"That’s right."

"And you wouldn’t want anyone here to know that you…?”

"Well done, Potter."

"But you brought me back!"

"Which is something I'd definitely want to get out as well, of course. Father would be ever so impressed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make a swift trip to Snape's office."

"You're going to tell Snape?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "The last time I saw our beloved Potions Master, he was sitting behind a large bottle of Firewhiskey, looking his usual cheerful self. Possibly, he was pouting because no one asked him to dance. I doubt he'll be anywhere near his office tonight. I'm going to get you a Restoration Potion, Potter. You won't run off anywhere now, will you?"

Before Harry could even think of a clever retort, Malfoy had already left the room.

* * *

The concoction tasted vile. But it seemed to do the trick. After a few minutes, Harry discovered that he could stand up again. He looked at Draco and said awkwardly, "Um, thanks, Malfoy. I guess I'll be on my way, then."

"On your way where?"

"Gryffindor Tower."

"You won't try...” He cleared his throat. “That is, I trust you'll steer clear of all and any sharp objects?"

Harry made a sad attempt at a smile, nodded and turned to leave. He only got as far as the tapestry, however, before another dizzy spell hit him hard.

Draco rushed forward as he saw Harry collapse.

"Good grief, Potter, not again!"

"Sorry."

"And don't bloody apologize! Can you stand back up?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Good. Take my arm and let's get out of here. And lean on me if you feel faint. Do not pull me down to the floor with you, however. I shan't be amused!"

Even though Draco sounded dead serious, Harry was unable to suppress a chuckle.

Together, they went back up the stairs and then down to another part of the castle. Oddly enough, they didn't bump into any other students along the way.

Then again, perhaps that wasn't so strange after all.

The Yule Ball was almost at an end by now, which meant that most people who'd attended it were either snogging someone or passed out drunk somewhere. Either of those activities rarely took place in the corridors.

* * *

"You're taking me to the Slytherin Common Room? Are you mad?"

"No, Potter, to both questions. We're going to my room."

"You have your own room?"

"That’s right. Forever full of surprises, aren't I, Potter? Here we are. Mind your step."

* * *

"Help yourself," Draco said, gesturing towards the chocolates on the table. "They're European. Mother sends me a ton every week. Usually Goyle and Crabbe scoff the lot, but I managed to rescue that box just in time."

"Um, thanks," Harry said, selecting a dark piece and popping it into his mouth. It didn't taste at all bad.

He felt a pair of grey eyes watching him intently from across the room, and he decided that this was awfully awkward.

He cleared his throat. "So, erm, Malfoy, why are we here?"

Draco smirked. "I couldn't very well take you to Gryffindor Tower, could I? Besides, I think I'd like to know what's going on."

"Going on?"

"Well, something pretty messed up must have happened, for you to resort to something that… _drastic._"

Harry sighed. He had known the question would come sooner or later. But did he really want to answer it? Or discuss this with Malfoy, of all people?

Last he checked, they were bitter rivals who had hated each other's guts for years.

_Perhaps so. But he also saved your life, Harry._

"Well," he began, "I'm not quite sure I should tell you. It's rather personal. But..."

"Yes?"

"It's pretty much everything. "

"Everything?"

Harry took a deep breath, and before he knew full well what he was doing, he was actually spilling his guts to Draco Malfoy.

Telling him about the Tournament; how he hadn't chosen to compete, not at all.

He didn't need more fame, truly he didn't. He'd had it with the attention. He just wanted to be normal. Live a quiet, uneventful life. And have people like him, or dislike him, for _him_.

When had it ever been about him, anyway? Even all those years ago, when Dumbledore had sent Hagrid to fetch Harry, it hadn't been about Harry. Not really. Harry had been a means to an end.

His eleven-year-old self had been so excited at getting those letters, so happy to finally feel like he belonged somewhere.

But when push came to shove, none of his supposed rescuers gave a toss about the shunned, neglected boy who'd been forced to live in a cupboard under the stairs by those magic-hating Muggles.

This had been only too evident by the fact that he’d been sent back to Pivet Drive every single summer, only to suffer all kinds of abuse at the hands of his bad-tempered uncle.

_You may be the wizarding world's only hope, but we'll be buggered if we're going to provide some kind of safe house for you!_

No, all they were interested in, was having their saviour, their champion in their midst. Just in case He-Whose-Name-Had-Them-Shaking-In-Their-Boots decided to make another appearance.

It was all clear to him now, clear as crystal, that he was nothing but a mere pawn in the ongoing battle between The Light and The Dark. That he'd been used, manipulated, set up.

But he also understood that he was already in far too deep to still be able to do anything about it. His connection with Voldemort had been restored. The Dark Side was actively looking for him now.

And so, somewhere along the way, the machinations of those who claimed to be The Good Guys had become his destiny.

"Which brings us to earlier," Harry concluded his rant. "I decided that the only effective way of getting back at them, would be by taking away their Golden Boy. And more importantly, I'd finally have some peace too, because honestly, Malfoy, I can't take much more of this shit!"

For what was possibly the very first time in his life, Draco found himself at a complete loss for words. Not knowing what else to do, he slowly walked over to the sofa, and sat down next to Harry.

As a rule, Malfoys didn't comfort people. But when he carefully wrapped his arms around Harry, as the other boy burst into violent tears, Draco decided that an exception was definitely warranted in this case.


	3. Morning Has Broken

Harry reached for the nearby table, relieved to find his spectacles there.

How long had he been asleep? And where the hell was he anyway?

As he looked around the candlelit room, the realization hit him, along with the vivid memory of last night's events.

His current location was the couch in Malfoy's private chambers. And the last thing he could remember was falling to pieces in front of the Slytherin ringleader, eventually even sobbing against his long-time rival's chest.

_How utterly embarrassing._

And if that wasn't bad enough already, he had apparently drifted off to sleep that way as well; with Malfoy's arms around him, no less.

_Dear Merlin, please kill me now, since I don't seem to be able to manage it myself. And even if I did, he'd probably just bring me back again, anyway. If not out of pity, then definitely out of spite._

Harry glanced over to the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. Malfoy was fast asleep, looking surprisingly innocent and angelic, mid-slumber.

_Malfoy? Angelic? Oh dear. Last night's blood loss must have affected my brain something wicked._

Still, he had to admit, Malfoy had been uncharacteristically nice to him.

Of course, on the whole, he'd been as arrogant and snide as ever, never missing an opportunity to get a few verbal jabs in. But underneath it all, there had been a kind of compassion this time too, or at least, that's what it had seemed like.

_Heh, just listen to yourself, Harry. Malfoy's still Malfoy. And there'll probably be hell to pay later. As soon as he stops feeling sorry for you. Which might be any minute now. What time is it, anyway?_

Four in the morning. Too early to go back to the Tower.

Besides, Harry really didn't feel up to dealing with anyone there yet. Entirely too much fuss.

So, after a trip to the bathroom (no, Malfoy having his own private bathroom as well didn't come as much of a surprise at this point), he crawled back under the warm blanket.

On the comfortable sofa, it didn't take long before he fell asleep again.

He'd just deal with the consequences in the morning; whatever those might be.

* * *

Morning arrived.

Rather suddenly and with a bang, in the all too perky and especially loud form of Pansy Parkinson.

"Nine o'clock and all's well!" she announced, barging into the room, heading straight for the bed. "Rise and shine, sweet prince, for I come bearing very juicy news indeed!"

Draco grumbled something about preferring juicy oranges at this time of day. "And don't call me sweet prince, Parkinson! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Alright then, Drakey-pooh, or should I say mister grumpy, and oh my, aren't we a ray of sunshine today? The point is..."

She didn't get any further than that, however, since she suddenly found herself interrupted by an outburst of laughter, coming from the direction of the couch.

She turned around. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. "Um... Draco," she stammered, "what on earth is Harry Potter doing in your bedroom?"

"Yes, Drakey-pooh." Harry chuckled, not wanting to let this opportunity pass him by. "Do tell!"

From the bed, Malfoy shot him a glare.

_Observe, Scarhead. I'm about to lie to one of my oldest friends for you. You'd better appreciate it too, you prat!_

Then he faced Pansy again.

"Our local celeb, Mister Potter there, decided to get phenomenally sloshed last night. Somehow, he ended up in Slytherin territory and couldn't find his way back to his own Common Room, let alone remember their ever-changing password. So, me being my overly philanthropic self, I decided to stick him on my couch to avoid some poor kid tripping over his mangled remains later."

This seemed to satisfy Pansy's curiosity for the time being. Draco decided to quickly change the subject before she changed her mind. "So, Pans," he began, "juicy news, you said?"

"Indeed, Draco," she responded, sitting herself down next to him on the bed. "You probably won't believe this, but I, um, kind of got together with someone last night. "

"Really?"

"Really!" she beamed.

"So, who's the lucky fellow?"

"Um, promise you won't freak?"

"Malfoys do not freak, my dear. Unless... it's not Hagrid, is it?"

"Ew, don't be vile!"

"Well, who then?"

She took a deep breath. "Neville."

"Neville? I don't know any... Oh, wait! We're not talking Neville 'cauldrons will explode without prior notice' Longbottom here, are we?"

Biting her lower lip, she nodded.

"Well... that's... interesting...I wonder what your father would have to say, though."

Pansy suddenly stood up, hands on her hips. From where Harry was sitting, she looked like she was about to throttle Draco.

Instead, though, she began, "Daddy, Draco? Oh, I can imagine him uttering something like...”

She cleared her throat and then continued in a much deeper voice, "Well, Lucius, the Longbottom name isn't exactly what one might call 'prestigious' in the wizarding world. But of course, my good man, things could always be worse. For one thing, my daughter could be spending the night with Harry Potter!"

Another wave of laughter came from the direction of the sofa, whereas Draco merely smirked. "All right, Parkinson, point taken; stretched to the point of being ludicrous, though it was. Anything else?"

"Not really. Unless you count the Weasel incident."

"The what?"

"Well, apparently, just as most people were starting to leave, Ron thought it would be a good idea to go and punch Viktor Krum in the face."

"What happened?"

"He was sent to the infirmary and returned with a bandaged hand."

"Viktor?"

"No. Weasley. It seems he hadn't counted on Krum being quite so… _solid_."

Now it was Draco's turn to burst out laughing.

Harry looked on in amazement, only slightly worried about Ron, whose fiery temper had once again landed him in trouble.

So Malfoy could actually laugh, really laugh. Not only that, he was rather attractive when he did, too.

_Hang on! Did I just consider Malfoy "attractive"? Pull yourself together, Harry!_

Swiftly snapping himself back to reality, he heard Pansy say, "I promised Nev I'd meet him at a quarter to ten, so I'll be off. See you at lunch, Draco?"

"Probably. And um, Pans...?"

"Yeah?"

"You won't tell anyone about my guest, will you?"

She shook her head in amusement. “As if anyone would believe that to begin with."

"Point taken. Again. Well, have fun!"

"Sure will. Bye Draco! See you around, Potter."

Pansy out the door, Harry was the first to speak. "Does she do that often?"

"Not as frequently as she used to, thankfully, but she still has her moments."

"Oh. I'm confused, though."

"About?"

"I always thought you two were a couple."

"Why?"

"Well, you seem kind of attached at the hip, most of the time."

"Like you and Granger, you mean?"

"Well, yeah."

"You're not together, are you?"

"No."

"Why not, anyway?"

"We just don't have that kind of chemistry, I suppose. And besides, I think Ron fancies her."

"Ah, that would explain the punch."

"Um, yeah. So why aren't you and Pansy together?"

"Aside from the fact that she's more like a bratty sister to me than anything else, I'm afraid I don't really like girls in that way, Potter."

"What? You mean to say you're..."

"That's right." Draco got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. "And do try not to look so shocked. Didn't anyone ever tell you that most drop dead gorgeous guys are?"

As Harry heard the water from the shower running, he still couldn't believe it. Malfoy, despite his colourful reputation to the contrary, didn't fancy girls.

For a second, he wondered why this revelation was suddenly making him feel kind of hopeful and... what... happy?

Then another realization hit him, like an incoming stampede of Hippogriffs.

Completely bewildered, he leapt up from the sofa, shaking his head.

_Oh no! Oh fuck!_


	4. Big Mouth Strikes Again

It was almost lunchtime when Harry Potter walked back into the Gryffindor Common Room.

Not too surprisingly, Hermione was the first and only person he saw there. She was sitting by the window, reading.

Looking up from what appeared to be a very old book, she smiled at him. "There you are, Harry. Finally! I was starting to get worried. Where have you been?"

He smiled. The truth wouldn't go down too well, so he simply settled for, "Let's just say I'll never drink again and leave it at that, okay?"

"Ouch. Sounds painful. All right."

"And I really need a shower. Be back in a tic."

Hermione nodded and beamed him another smile, before she turned her attention back to the reading material in her lap.

The mythology of magical sea creatures was a pretty fascinating subject. She'd have to ask Hagrid about them some day.

* * *

On his way to the Great Hall, Crabbe and Goyle faithfully by his side, Draco Malfoy couldn't help but feel rather out of sorts.

Not only had he saved Potter last night, they'd actually formed some sort of unspoken truce since then. Heck, they'd even discussed Quidditch strategies before going their separate ways this morning.

The world had officially been turned upside down.

And the weird thing, the ironic thing, considering everything that had happened between the Gryffindor and himself over the past few years, was that he rather liked it.

* * *

Ron eyed his lunch with the usual enthusiasm and tucked in, momentarily pausing to glare at the two people who'd just entered the Great Hall.

Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson. Yet another example of why underage drinking was a generally bad idea.

He shook his head when his Housemate actually sat down at the Slytherin table and amazingly enough, wasn't killed, or at the very least _Stupefied_ on the spot. No doubt that slither of snakes were all waiting for their ringleader to arrive, before they actually did anything.

Ron sighed, unable to grasp what was going on with his friends. One by one, they all seemed to be losing their marbles.

First Hermione, who fell head over heels for that poser Krum. Now Neville besotted with the Slytherin pug. And wasn’t Parkinson supposed to be Malfoy’s girlfriend anyway?

Ron dreaded to think what was going to happen next. Hopefully, it wouldn't be something exceptionally vile such as his little sister hooking up with Malfoy.

_No, let's not even go there!_

And speaking of the devil...

Without giving any of the other tables as much as a sideways glance, Draco strode right up to where His Housemates were seated, his two bodyguards trailing after him.

"Hey." Pansy smiled sweetly. “Um, you don't mind Nev joining us, do you, Draco? Some of the Gryffindors have been real bastards to him today, because of me."

Draco looked at the nervous boy sitting next to his best friend. "Fine by me, Pans, as long as he promises not to blow anything up on our side of the room."

Neville visibly paled at that.

"Don' t worry, love." Pansy smiled reassuringly, putting her hand on her new boyfriend's arm. "His Highness there just has a warped sense of humor."

Draco, now seated in his usual chair, raised his eyebrows slightly and protested, "I most certainly do not! But don't worry, Longbottom, no one's going to harm you here."

"Unlike the members of some other Houses I could mention," he then added with relish, loud enough for the Gryffindor table to hear, "the Slytherins respect and look after their own."

A successfully baited Ron Weasley mumbled something about honour amongst thieves, and mentally geared himself up for yet another verbal brawl with Malfoy.

At that precise moment, Harry walked into the Hall. He took the chair next to Ron's, and couldn't fail to notice the murderous expression on his best friend's face.

"Alright there, Ron?"

"Some day very soon, Harry, Draco _sodding_ Malfoy is going to wake up and find himself _deceased_."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table. His eyes inadvertently met Draco's. The boy was smirking, giving him an all too familiar, but at the same time rather different, look. Instead of malice, there was mischief in those grey eyes now, and he was clearly challenging Harry to finish what Ron had been about to start.

Harry shook his head. "Be nice," he mouthed.

Once he was sure Weasley wasn't looking, Draco mouthed back, "Make me."

Again, Harry shook his head.

Another smirk. "Scared, Potter?"

That did it.

Harry stood up and walked over to where Draco was sitting.

"Well, well, if it isn't the famous Harry Potter," the latter drawled. "How may we assist you today? Thinking of applying for Slytherin membership too? Neville here appears to have seen the light."

"I highly doubt that Voldemort's groveling minions would have anything to offer me, Malfoy!" Harry shot back, realizing just a little too late how serious and angry he sounded, or what the full implications of such a statement were.

Come to think of it, he shouldn't have yelled, either; and he definitely shouldn't have shouted the Dark Lord’s name in the middle of a busy meal, causing a few first-years to wet themselves.

A deafening silence immediately filled the Great Hall.

Draco's eyes widened. He threw his spoon down. It made a loud, ominous clang against his soup dish, before it landed on the floor.

Then, without a word, he rose from his seat and stalked out of the room. Crabbe and Goyle instantly followed, struggling to keep up.

Surprising pretty much everyone, including himself, Neville was the first to speak.

"I... I'm a... a... Death Eater now, Harry?" he stammered. "How dare you? What the hell is wrong with you? Come on, Pans, let's go."

Having regained her composure, Pansy threw Harry a glare he wouldn't be forgetting soon. "Remind me never to be civil to you ever again, Potter!" she hissed, before walking out with Neville.

Harry turned around (mentally kicking himself a hundred shades of blue and wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow him completely; right this instant, please) when he suddenly found himself standing face to face with Professor Snape.

"Mister Potter!" the Potions Master bellowed, making Harry's last name sound like a foul disease. "That will be two hours' worth of detention on Monday night and two hundred points from Gryffindor for disturbing the peace, upsetting your fellow students and ruining my lunch!"

* * *

"We have to find Draco," Pansy told Neville. "He's going to be dreadfully upset. The Dark Lord's groveling minion, indeed. I could bloody well kill Potter for this, you know! Draco's worth ten of him. No, make that a thousand!"

"Where does Mal- where does Draco usually go?"

"His room. The library. The lake... Yeah, he'll be by the lake. Come on!"

Pansy and Neville broke into a run.

* * *

Harry sat down again; about three quarters of the Great Hall's occupants glaring daggers at him when he did.

"Whoa, mate!" Ron whispered. "Not that I don't share your suspicions about Malfoy and his cronies or anything, but erm, bugger me, that was _intense_!"

"Shut up, Ron," Harry hissed between gritted teeth. "Just shut the hell up!"

* * *

When Pansy and Neville finally caught up with Draco, he was kicking the hell out of a big Oak tree.

Crabbe and Goyle looked on. Clueless as ever, but ready to step in, should their friend hurt himself.

"Hey, sweetie," Pansy said carefully, struggling to keep the rising sadness and anger out of her voice. "You're ruining your shoes and uniform with nasty bark, you know. And you're going to injure your hands and feet as well, if you're not careful."

Draco turned around to face her. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look this defeated before.

"Why would he do that, Pansy? Why the hell would he say that? I mean, I may not be the easiest person to get along with, and yes, I can be aloof and arrogant and snobbish and I love riling people up, but I'm not evil! I'm not my father! And I'm definitely nobody's damn minion, least of all that vile bastard's!"

"I know," Pansy soothed, as she pulled her best friend into a tight hug. "I know. Potter's a complete shit."

"Yeah, he is."

_And I should have left him for dead when I had the chance. Serves me right for caring._


	5. True Colours

Gryffindor Tower. Three o'clock in the morning.

Try though he might, Harry couldn't get a wink of sleep. Images of Draco's face kept haunting him; the hurt in those grey eyes, after such an unnecessarily cruel retort; that look of confusion, betrayal, sadness and anger all rolled into one.

_Fuck!_

And it had to happen now, when they were just starting to get along, too. They might have ended up friends, even.

Right. This couldn't go on. He had to talk to Malfoy; explain, apologize, _anything_, and sort this out.

Carefully, he crept out of bed. Taking the Marauder's Map with him, he snuck out of the room and quickly headed down the stairs.

"Lumos!"

He scanned the parchment for Draco's name.

_Not in his private quarters, not in the Slytherin section, not in the library. Weird._

Ah, there he was! In the reading room near the Great Hall. And he was by himself; all the better.

Harry took a deep breath and continued onwards, determined to put things right again.

* * *

Draco stared into the fast flickering flames.

_Hurry up, Mother! That little diversion I created upstairs won't last forever. Filch has an annoying tendency to be back a lot sooner than we'd like._

As if on cue, Narcissa's face appeared in the fire.

"Mother, finally! Everything all right?”

"Yes, love. Sorry I couldn't get here earlier. Your father had a few people over."

"I see. Some of _them_?"

"I'm afraid so, dearest."

"It won't be much longer now, will it?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "No."

"Do you know anything specific?"

"Sadly not. Lucius is being very tight-lipped about it all."

"He doesn't suspect anything, does he?"

"No. I'm thinking more along the lines of a blood oath; none of them being allowed to discuss matters outside of their own Circle."

"Very probable."

"You've been practicing like you promised, darling?"

"Naturally."

"And it's going well?"

"Better than expected, I'm glad to say. Although I'd much prefer a real tutor. Or at least someone to practice with. Getting everything from books takes a lot more time than I'd like."

"Yes, it's very unfortunate, not knowing whom to trust."

He hesitated for a moment. "Well, mother, I trust Pansy, but her magic skills aren't up to par, sadly. And the same goes for Vincent and Gregory's. Maybe Blaise would be a suitable candidate, but I haven't a clue where his loyalties lie. And it's not the sort of thing you can just bring up and ask at a time like this, is it?"

"No, we can't be drawing that kind of attention to ourselves. Anything else, dear?"

"Well, there was a scene in the Great Hall yesterday."

"A scene?"

"Potter, in no uncertain terms, called the whole of Slytherin a pack of Death Eaters."

"Good heavens! Am I correct in assuming the boy's becoming less than stable?"

"That's a polite way of putting it, yes."

She sighed. "Well, it was to be expected, eventually. So much pressure put on someone so young; so many people counting on him to save their entire world."

Draco just nodded his agreement.

"I'll be on my way again, love," Narcissa spoke. "Please be careful, and I'll speak to you soon."

"You too, Mother. And thank you for the chocolates."

Draco stood up again and turned away from the fireplace, while at the same time, concealed behind the door, Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

The sound of voices had stopped him from entering the room in the first place, and having overheard the larger part of Malfoy's firetalk, his head was currently reeling with a lot of information he wasn't quite sure how to process.

So Draco and Narcissa were plotting against Lucius? Had he heard that correctly? Did this mean Draco actually intended to defy his father, the man he always spoke of so highly in public, the man he even threatened people with at any given opportunity?

_Bloody hell!_ How long had this been going on for?

Did Dumbledore know? Did Snape? Most likely “No” on both counts, he reasoned, or Draco wouldn't have mentioned that thing about needing a tutor.

The sound of approaching footsteps swiftly snapped Harry back to the here and now. He took a deep breath and emerged from his hiding place, almost bumping squarely into Draco.

"Potter?" the latter exclaimed, undeniably startled, but with an obvious look of fury just dying to burst to the surface. "Stalking me now, are you? Hoping to catch me in the act of groveling, perchance?"

"Um." Harry found himself at a complete loss for words.

"Had fun eavesdropping, did we?" Draco went on. There was a very dark expression on his face.

"You're... you're," Harry finally blurted out.

"I'm _what_, Potter?"

"Not a follower of Voldemort."

"Fifty points to Gryffindor for pointing out the glaringly obvious! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere better to be."

Harry grabbed Draco's arm. "Wait!"

This only seemed to anger the boy even more. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, touching me, Potter?"

"You... you ... support Dumbledore?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "No. I don't follow conniving old fools who manipulate children into fighting their battles for them, either!"

"Then, whose side are you on?"

Draco shook his arm free. "The one I'm always on, Potter," he snarled. “My own. And if you as much as breathe a word about this to anyone, including Dumbledore - no, make that _especially_ Dumbledore, rest assured that I will make what little remains of your miserable existence a living hell."

With that, he strode off.

* * *

Walking back to his Common Room, Harry felt even worse than he'd done earlier.

Not only was he starting to realize the extent of how much his stupid outburst must have hurt Draco, he was also beginning to feel genuine empathy for the boy.

And he definitely agreed with him on the Dumbledore issue.

Harry wouldn't go so far as to call himself the headmaster's minion, but if he was entirely honest, sock puppet did come rather close.

Ironic though it was, it seemed that he and Malfoy were on the same side now.

But there was still more...

Harry felt that he might have discovered something of a kindred spirit in the blond Slytherin. And suddenly, for reasons he couldn't quite define yet, he found himself very eager, verging on desperate, to strike up a friendship with the boy he'd categorically turned down all those years ago.

_"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."_

No, he clearly couldn’t and first thing in the morning, he was going to sort this out.

Maybe he could offer to practice with Malfoy, once this Triwizard nonsense was over and done with? He'd become quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, if that was what Draco and his mother had been referring to. Maybe he could actually do something to help?

_Right. Tomorrow, then. Hopefully, I'll at least get to say I'm sorry before he decides to kill me._


	6. Commotions In Potions

"Well done, Mister Longbottom," Professor Snape spoke without irony. "I do believe this is the very first time in your entire Hogwarts career that you managed to make it through one of my classes without causing some kind of regrettable incident. Mister Malfoy, ten points to Slytherin for coming to a fellow student's rescue. Merlin knows, the unfortunate lad needs all the help he can get."

Neville's eyes widened. Had Snape just said something borderline positive -- about him?

Gobsmacked, he looked over at Draco, who gave him the smuggest of grins in response.

Well, Neville thought, Malfoy had been right about the members of his House looking after their own, then; and after others who had earned their trust.

Could anyone from Slytherin ever be accepted as easily into a Gryffindor group of friends, he wondered?

If the the way his Housemates treated Pansy was anything to go by, he sincerely doubted it. Most of them wouldn't even as much as acknowledge her.

Hermione was one of the rare exceptions. She hadn't been thrilled when she'd learned of the relationship, but at least she was willing to give his girlfriend a chance. "If Parkinson makes you this happy, Nev," she'd reasoned, "she can't be that bad a person, can she?"

Hermione had always been the smart one.

* * *

Draco was quietly gathering his stuff for the next lesson when he suddenly saw a note land on his desk.

Slightly intrigued, he picked it up. The writing didn't look familiar.

  
_  
Malfoy,  
I realize you must hate me now (again?) and I deserve that. What I said yesterday was well out of order. If I could take it back, I would. I never wanted to hurt you.  
I'm terribly sorry.  
Harry Potter._

PS: Would really like to talk to you, if you have time.

  
Draco turned around. Harry was still seated in his usual spot and now looking straight at him, a solemn expression on his face.

Draco gritted his teeth. _Damn you and your pleading green eyes, Potter! I can already tell I'm going to regret this. Oh, what the heck!_

Quickly, he picked up his quill and began to write.

Once he was sure no one was watching, he threw the piece of parchment back, and walked out of the classroom. His Slytherin friends, as well as Neville, were quick to follow.

Harry was almost afraid to read the response. With slightly shaking hands, he unfolded the note. Malfoy's handwriting was every bit as elegant as he'd expected.

  
_Persistent little blighter, aren't you, Potter?_

1) You should be sorry. Phenomenally so.  
2) Will be studying tonight. You can stop by my room after nine, if you like.  
D.M.

P.S.: Do try not to be seen.  
P.P.S.: Yes, I know all about your cloak.

  
For the first time since that horrible incident in the Great Hall, Harry found himself smiling. Even the prospect of detention with Snape later on didn't seem too bad all of a sudden.


	7. A Fresh Start

Squinting at all that small print was making Draco's eyes very tired, and the fact that practically the entire text was in Latin didn't help his mood much either.

How was he supposed to cast these spells properly, anyway, if he wasn't even sure how to pronounce a vast majority of them?

_"Oops, sorry, Voldie, old chum; didn't mean to cover you in daisies! Guess that 'e' wasn't mute like I’d originally thought."_

Draco sighed. Having the assistance of a competent tutor would be pretty brilliant right now.

A few times, he had considered asking professor Snape for help. But even though Draco was convinced that his godfather didn't support The Dark Side, he had absolutely no idea where the man stood in regards to Dumbledore.

So in the end, he had decided to leave well enough alone. There was simply too much at stake here; including his mother's life if Lucius ever found out about all this.

* * *

"Meeting someone, Harry?" Ron asked, looking his friend up and down curiously.

"Um, what makes you say that?"

"You've showered, changed clothes _and_ combed your hair, that's what!" The redhead grinned triumphantly.

"My other stuff was covered in goo from detention, Ron, and I smelled like I'd just crawled out of a swamp. Believe me, I'm glad I don't know what it was that I scraped out of those cauldrons."

"And now you're going...?"

"To the library, obviously. Why else would I be taking this bag of books with me?"

"You tell me, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes and exited the common room.

"It's probably that pretty Ravenclaw bird Cedric took to the ball," Ron said to an also grinning Seamus. "Harry's had his eye on her for a while."

The Irishman gave a knowing nod in response.

* * *

Using his invisibility cloak, it wasn't too hard for Harry to make it down to Draco's room undetected. Fortunately, none of the many Slytherins in the corridor bumped into him, and he was careful not to knock anything, or anyone, over either.

He took a deep breath, and tapped at the door.

He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so nervous, but he assumed his recent - at least, he hoped it was recent - tendency to spout asinine rubbish had something to do with it.

_Dear Merlin, please don't let me screw things up again._

"Come in. It's not locked!"

_Right. Here goes..._

Draco was seated on the sofa; a thick, old book in his lap. "Is that you, Potter?" he asked.

"Um, yeah. Sorry," Harry said, discarding his cloak, so the other boy could see him.

Draco grinned. "Longbottom wasn't joking." He put his study material on the table, and gestured to his visitor to take a seat.

Harry plopped himself down next to Draco. "It was Nev who told you about the cloak, then?"

"Of course. He's an honourary Slytherin now, you know. He has to tell me everything, lest I threaten to unleash the wrath of Snape upon him."

Harry laughed. "Ugh, don't talk to me about Snape! I'm still reeling from the sights and especially the smells of tonight's detention."

"You had detention with Snape? What for?"

"The um.. _minions_ incident. He took two hundred points from Gryffindor too. Didn't you know?"

Draco glared. "No, I didn't, actually. For some reason, people sort of avoided that topic around me. Can't think why. And only two hundred? What a pity; the man must be getting lenient in his old age."

And suddenly the pleasant mood had once again turned rather grim.

"Um," Harry began, "I really am sorry, you know. I mean..."

"Yes? Go on."

"I don't know what came over me that day. Maybe I just... I guess I was angry, or frustrated, or something because... Well, Ron was dreadfully edgy because of Krum, I think, and that's never good; and you were baiting us again; and for a moment there, I'd assumed something might be different now, between you and me, I mean... after.... well, the night you saved me... I just..." He took a deep breath. "My point being, I didn't ... I _don't_ want to fight with you anymore, Malfoy; not even as a joke... I just don't... I thought we..."

Harry sighed and put his head in his hands. Who'd have thought that this would be so horribly difficult? And once again it was going all wrong. _Damn it! _

"Alright, Potter," he heard Draco say, his tone gentle once more. "So, am I understanding this correctly; you want a truce?"

Harry shook his head and leapt up.

"No," he near-yelled, clenching his fists in frustration. "I don't want a bloody truce! I want more than a truce. I want..." He took another deep breath. "I want to put right what happened back on the train."

"Which Train?" Draco frowned in confusion. "What on earth are you babbling on about?"

"The train in first year, damn it! I refused your friendship. And looking back... You know, Hagrid had warned me off everything Slytherin. He even told me he didn't know a wizard from your House that hadn't gone bad. I truly suspect now that Dumbledore put him up to all that, to make sure he had me right where he wanted me. And yeah, you'd been sort of obnoxious and unpleasant too, boasting, and slagging off the Weasleys... um, sorry, Malfoy... but I shouldn't have just... I was gullible and stupid and well, I ought to at least have given you a fair _chance_, not gone by first appearances and hearsay and..." He trailed off, not sure what else to add. In the end, he settled for, "You and me. We were just two dumb kids back then."

Draco considered all that had been said, trying to distill Harry’s rant down to something comprehensible. "So you would like us to be _friends_ now, Potter?" he said at last.

Harry sat down again. He gave a small smile. "Yeah. If I haven't already blown my chances completely."

"Right. I suppose we'd best do this properly, then." He extended his right hand and said in a mock-formal voice, "Draco Malfoy, devious Slytherin, destined to go bad. And you are...?"

Harry smiled widely, shook the offered hand, and replied, "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, rambled and jumped to conclusions.”

At that, they both burst out laughing. And when their eyes met, Harry thought that Malfoy - no, Draco, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

_Shit. I really hope I'm not blushing._


	8. A Necessary Deception

The following morning, breakfast in the Great Hall was a fairly quiet affair.

There was still the occasional glare, of course. It was usually directed at Neville and Pansy, or in the case of the older students, at the Weasley twins who had somehow succeeded in flooding the Prefects' bathroom during the course of the night. An impressive bill and a memorable howler from Molly would undoubtedly ensue.

"Hey." Ron nudged Harry and pointed at his friend's plate. "Are you going to eat that, mate?"

"Naah, I'm full."

"Cool," he said, before he grabbed the leftover muffin and stuffed it into his mouth whole.

"Oh, honestly, Ronald!" Hermione remarked disgustedly. "Must you always gorge like that? Just look at yourself. Your table manners are atrocious!"

K

"Yes, mother."

Harry sniggered and then turned his attention to the trio who'd just walked in.

Striding over to his seat, Draco Malfoy looked as cool and collected as ever. Crabbe and Goyle were right behind him, giving off an air of menace.

Yes, Harry decided, that boy definitely knew how to make an entrance.

He wasn't the only one who'd noticed. "I see The Prince Of Darkness is late this morning," Ron said dryly. "Probably had to run an errand for daddy."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Please, don't start anything, Ronald."

"I wasn't going to. Just making an observation."

Harry didn't get involved. He didn't even hear what they were talking about. He was too distracted, struggling not to stare at Draco.

He failed miserably.

Well, not exactly miserably...

Sensing that he was being watched, Draco looked up. Grey eyes met green. Draco smiled. Harry grinned back, feeling happy, lightheaded and a just little awkward, all at the same time.

"Oi!” Ron tapped his best friend on the arm. "Alright there, mate?"

"Huh?"

"You look sort of flushed. And you had a really bizarre expression on your face just now. "

"He's right, Harry," Hermione supplied. "You're not coming down with something, are you? Should we go and see the nurse?"

"Yeah," Ron added. "It's the second Triwizard Task tomorrow. If you're not feeling well..."

Harry sighed. "Please, guys. I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

Hermione still wasn't convinced. "You're not worried are you, Harry?" she asked, and added, "With the Gilliweed Ron obtained for you, you should be perfectly safe."

Harry nodded and smiled reassuringly at his friends.

He was very glad that neither of them was aware of what was really going on. Otherwise, there was a very real possibility that especially Ron would have him shipped off to St. Mungo's without delay.

* * *

In the early evening, Draco Malfoy suddenly found himself being summoned to Dumbledore's office. "Just to have a word," he'd been told.

The Slytherin didn't have to guess twice to know what said _word_ would involve.

When he got there, it was indeed the usual offering of tea, candy and sticky biscuits, while the old man casually chatted about nothing important, and at the same time used Legilimency on him.

Draco was prepared. He was always prepared for mind-reading attacks. At least this was one thing he could thank his father for.

_"Out with the real thoughts, in with the fake memories and they'll be none the wiser, son."_

So a good half an hour later, the headmaster dismissed him again, safe in the knowledge that the young Malfoy was mostly interested in Quidditch, studying and working with potions. Despite his arrogant exterior, he was still an innocent lad, basically, be it one with the terrible misfortune of having been born into the wrong kind of family.

In some ways, the old wizard felt rather sorry for him.

"If you ever need to talk, Mister Malfoy, about anything at all, feel free to stop by anytime."

"Thank you, Sir, I shall. Good evening."

On his way back to the Slytherin section, Draco's thoughts suddenly drifted to Harry Potter.

Draco was notably disappointed that he hadn't been able to talk to his former rival today. They hadn't had any classes together and lunch had all revolved around an unusual _domestic disturbance_ at the Parkinson residence. Since when did house elves rebel, anyway?

Draco suddenly had an idea. He decided to make a little detour to the owlery.

Using his own bird would most likely raise suspicion, but no one would as much as blink if the famous Harry Potter received yet another piece of fan mail through one of the school owls.

* * *

_Potter,_

I'm pretty sure you'll be brilliant as ever, even if I'd never admit as much to your face, but nonetheless, best of luck tomorrow.

Also, definitely not wanting to bait you at this point, but I have to state that Weasley's "muffin monster" act this morning was rather disturbing and highly unappetizing. Not something one wants to see upon entering a dining room. How you put up with these savages, I’ll never know, but I might just be tempted to switch places with Zabini tomorrow.

D.M.

P.S.: At the risk of sounding like Granger, you will be careful, won't you?

  
Harry read the letter again. Then he placed it under his pillow and grinning from ear to ear, he drifted off to sleep.

 


	9. The Second Task

Anxious, worried out of his mind in fact, Draco Malfoy paced his room.

Even now, he wasn't entirely sure what had gone so horribly wrong earlier.

He'd been in the audience during the second Triwizard Task. His trademark smirk of indifference had been firmly in place but his true feelings had been another matter entirely.

For what had seemed like an eternity, there he'd sat, on the edge of his seat, chilled to the bone, fearing for Harry Potter's life; not entirely certain why he suddenly cared so much, just painfully aware that he did.

To Draco's relief, Harry had successfully rescued both Weasley and the young Delacour girl, and had reemerged from the lake just fine. A few moments later, however, surrounded by cheering friends, Harry had suddenly slumped down to the ground again, unconscious.

With all hell broken loose, Granger screaming at the top of her lungs, and healers rushing to Potter's aid, it had taken all of Draco's self control not to hurry down there, himself.

Silently cursing Lucius and the need to keep up certain appearances, he'd stayed right where he was. For the full duration of five minutes, anyway, then he'd headed off in search of Pansy and Neville.

Draco didn't doubt for a second that his best friend would give him an impressive lecture later, or at the very least subject him to a mild to moderate inquisition.

Why did he even care about Potter, what exactly was going on, and most importantly, why the hell hadn't he told her about it yet? Yes, definitely something along those lines. Pansy didn't approve of secrets that weren't her own.

_Ah well,_ Draco thought, _she'll find out sooner or later, anyway; might as well get it over with._

_Fuck. I really hope you're alright, Harry!_

* * *

Gryffindor Tower was deserted.

Its usual occupants were by the lake, in the Great Hall, or hanging around the hospital wing, anxious to hear some news about their Housemate and friend.

As such, present circumstances made it very easy for Neville to sneak into his dormitory, grab Harry's invisibility cloak and quickly sneak back out again. He didn't know what Draco wanted that cloak for, but Pansy seemed to have a fair idea. He'd ask her to explain later.

* * *

"You okay, Granger?"

Hermione looked up at the speaker. She wasn't used to being on friendly terms with Parkinson yet. It still felt kind of awkward. But seeing the girl was always nice to her now, she saw no reason to snub her or to keep up some childish House rivalry just for the hell of it.

"Yes, sort of," she said honestly. "Still a little shaken up, though."

Pansy nodded. "What exactly happened out there, anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"

Hermione didn't mind at all. In fact, she was thankful for the opportunity to tell someone, for a chance to get it off her chest.

"Well," she began, "I woke up this morning and instead of tucked up in bed, I was tied up under water, and there were these ... _merpeople_ all around me. Ron, Cho and Fleur's little sister were down there too, in the same predicament as I was. It was... quite horrible!"

"Oh, I can imagine," Pansy said sympathetically.

Hermione took a deep breath, and continued, "Cedric suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and pulled Cho to the surface. A little later, Harry turned up as well. He untied Ron first, and then he wanted to rescue me too, but all of a sudden, this bastard of a mercreature started attacking him; all claws and fangs, yelling that he was only supposed to set one person free... You should have seen the look in Harry's eyes, then, Pansy, it was... He looked so... _gutted_ about having to leave me there. Thank Merlin, Viktor showed up then and cut me loose; and in the middle of it all, and in spite of those horrible creatures, Harry eventually managed to save Gabrielle as well."

Pansy nodded. "And then what? The _mer-thing_ decided to get even or something?"

"No," Hermione said. "It was quite bizarre. One minute, we were all back on shore, and happy it was over and done with; but then, the next, for no reason at all, Harry suddenly passed out cold."

"Wow." Pansy frowned. "How's he doing now?"

"He's regained consciousness, and he seems to be alright, but Madame Pomfrey wants to keep him in the infirmary overnight, just in case."

"Yes, of course," Pansy said, wondering what kind of deranged mind would come up with that type of _Task_ in the first place. Not to mention, kidnapping random students in their sleep and tying them up under water was acceptable now?

"It's bloody typical, isn't it Granger?" she remarked with a sneer.

"What is?"

Pansy sighed dramatically. "All of it! Potter being put in mortal danger for the sake of everyone's entertainment, for starters. Eternal glory, my arse! He could die out there, and no one cares. No one even stops to consider that if Potter really is our saviour, he won't be doing a whole lot of saving anymore if we let him die in this stupid Tournament! And don't even get me started on the other dangers, Granger: dragons around the school; students scared shitless or catching double pneumonia in a freezing cold lake... This whole business, it's just fucked up beyond compare!"

Hermione gave a wry smile. "You know what, Pansy? I've been thinking pretty much the same thing, ever since they had Harry face that dragon."

* * *

It was around midnight when Draco arrived at the hospital wing. He made sure there were no nurses or other healers about, and then he discarded the invisibility cloak and whispered, "Lumos!"

He was relieved to discover that there was only the one patient here tonight. That definitely made both finding Harry and not getting caught a whole lot easier.

He quickly cast a silencing charm around the room and then walked up to the occupied hospital bed. Harry was sound asleep.

As quietly as he could, Draco moved one of the chairs closer to the bed and sat down. Observing the sleeping boy, he decided that Potter was rather adorable in his present state.

_Wait, did I just call Potter "adorable"? Malfoys don't do sappy, surely?_

At that moment, he noticed a pair of green eyes flutter open.

"Who's there?" Harry asked, squinting and looking rather worried.

"Only me," Draco said softly, handing Harry the glasses from the bedside table.

"Oh." Harry smiled warmly. "Draco, hi. How did you get in?"

He grinned. "You were kind enough to lend me your cloak by way of Neville."

Harry grinned back. "Yes, that sounds like something I might do."

They sat in silence for a few minutes; not needing to speak, just glad for each other's company.

Then Draco did something neither of them would have expected. He took Harry's hand in his. It felt surprisingly soft.

_Alright, then. Malfoys do do sappy. My mistake._

"Draco?" Harry's voice was barely a whisper.

"Hm?"

"I'm glad you're here. Today has been really..."

"I know." Draco gently squeezed the hand he was holding. "I heard what happened in the lake. How are you feeling now?"

"Honestly? Angry. Tired. And my chest still hurts a little. Pomfrey wasn't sure if that's a side effect from the Gilliweed or if I just swallowed too much water."

"You should probably get some more sleep. Rest can fix a lot of things."

"Yeah."

Harry closed his eyes again.

He couldn't help but wonder why Malfoy was still holding his hand, or why he had taken hold of it in the first place. But he wasn't going to ask. He was enjoying this moment too much to allow words to spoil it.

* * *

One in the morning.

The hospital wing's only patient had been asleep for a while now, and his visitor was still watching over him.

_I should probably head back to my room,_ Draco thought, _ before I nod off too. Or a night nurse comes in and I end up having to explain this to Dumbledore. Or worse, to Snape, who'd no doubt have a field day, informing Father._

Reluctantly, Draco released Harry's hand. He carefully removed the boy's glasses and put them back on the nightstand.

He rose from his seat, ready to return to the Slytherin quarters, and hesitated for a moment.

Then he bent down, planted a light kiss on Harry's forehead and whispered, "Sweet dreams."


	10. The Sins Of The Father

"Hiya, Pansy!"

"Good morning, Hermione."

Ron gave his friend a puzzled look. "Do I even _want_ to know why you're on first name terms with the Pug now?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "She's not that bad, once you get to know her, Ron; pretty smart as well."

"Yes, of course, she is," Ron said, a little louder than he should have done. "Why wouldn't she be? And Snape's such a jolly fellow when you get him alone, too, isn't he? The poor bloke's just misunderstood! And any second now, Malfoy will be declaring me his undying love, and we'll all live happily ever after!"

"Keep dreaming, Weasley," an amused voice suddenly drawled behind them. "I highly doubt you'd be able to keep me in the manner I'm accustomed to."

Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle, while the colour of Ron's face was now a perfect match for his hair.

Without any further incidents, the Transfiguration lesson began, and five minutes into it, a note landed on Draco's desk.

_Just to let you know that Harry's getting discharged at noon.  
Neville_

Draco smiled. He turned around briefly, mouthed "Thanks”, and flipped open his book.

* * *

Slowly, Harry walked back to the Gryffindor common room, grateful that he'd been given a sick note for the rest of the day.

He was no longer in pain, but he still felt pretty groggy from yesterday's events.

Well, some of yesterday's events...

The time with Malfoy in the hospital wing had been pretty agreeable. Slightly confusing too, since he had no idea where he and Draco now stood, or whether the hand-holding had actually meant something more than a gesture of comfort and reassurance towards a sick friend.

But still...

Every time he thought about it, the memory brought a smile to Harry's lips.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy rarely sent her son letters; actual letters, that is, cards and notes accompanying cakes and boxes of chocolate didn't count.

So when Draco saw his mother's owl appear at lunchtime and drop an envelope in front of him, he knew it wasn't just a simple hello note.

He quickly pocketed the letter and excused himself.

In the privacy of his room, he began to read.

  
_Dear Draco,_

Since we last spoke, your father has been in a rather agitated state of mind. His distrust towards the people around him, myself included, has greatly increased.

As such, I believe it would be unwise for you and I to engage in any more firetalks in the immediate future, lest they be intercepted.

You may be interested to learn that they have been making more stops at the Manor recently and their visits continue to rise in frequency.

Rarely am I able to pick up anything significant without rousing suspicion, but in the past week, I did hear Hogwarts mentioned twice.

On a related note, it is also rumored that the Dark Mark was recently spotted over the castle. Certain authorities are of course doing their utmost to keep this information from the press.

I fear, Draco, that something sinister is about to happen at your school. I might be mistaken, and with all my heart, I hope I am, but I sense the Dark Lord's hand in this.

Do be careful.

Your loving mother,  
Narcissa Malfoy-Black.

P.S.: Please make sure to destroy this parchment immediately after reading it.

While he burned his mother's letter, Draco pondered on the information he had just received.

Increased Death Eater gatherings at the Manor could only mean one thing; the bastards were plotting something. And by the sound of it, something that would happen right here, at Hogwarts.

But what? And how?

Then it suddenly dawned on him; the Triwizard Tournament.

A number of things about that event had been quite suspicious from the very start.

Potter's name emerging from the Goblet as the fourth champion, for instance.

Draco had suspected for a while that this hadn't been Harry's own doing. The so-called Golden Boy positively loathed all the fame and attention that befell him; just about the last thing he'd do, would be to go looking for more.

Then, of course, this was precisely the type of event that would attract as well as distract the crowds quite satisfactorily. And when they all had their eyes on the champions, who'd notice a bunch of Death Eaters sneaking around?

And finally, it was a well-known fact that people died in this Tournament. Even Dumbledore had said as much. So who'd think twice if another contender lost his or her life? On the road to Eternal Glory, bad things just happened sometimes.

_Well,_ Draco thought, _not this time._

The final task was in two weeks from now.

He had to warn Harry.

No, scrap that; he wasn't just going to warn him. He was going to help him; teach him a few things he'd picked up from his father, and from a lot of restricted books.

Maybe together, they could put an end to this insanity.

_Just maybe._


	11. Breaking The Shell

Rather than join his friends in the Great Hall, Harry decided to spend a quiet evening in the Gryffindor Common Room, reading.

Not that there was anything wrong with his appetite. He simply wasn't in the mood to have people fussing over him yet again, or overwhelming him with an avalanche of awkward questions.

This was much nicer by far, even if it meant missing out on dinner.

Suddenly, a scratching sound made him look up from his book.

Outside, one of the school owls was trying to attract his attention.

Harry opened the window and accepted the letter. The familiar writing instantly put a smile on his face.

  
_Potter,_

Not eating tonight? I hope that means you're just being broody and difficult, not that you're actually still feeling poorly. I'd come up and see for myself, but I fear I might get struck down by lightning if I attempted to enter the Holy Halls Of Gryffindor.

On a more serious note, I received some disturbing news from Mother earlier today that I'd like to discuss since it concerns you as well.

I'll be by the Quidditch Pitch around nine if you can make it. An R.S.V.P. would be nice.

D.M.

  
Harry took his quill, scribbled, "I'll be there", and handed the piece of parchment back to the bird waiting outside on the windowsill.

Disturbing news? That sounded fairly ominous.

Then again, Harry hadn't been in mortal danger for well over twenty-four hours now. He should probably have realized that couldn't last.

* * *

Draco paced nervously as he waited.

This moment was like a milestone, a crossroads.

He'd spoken with his mother about defying Lucius, obviously, and he'd spent the larger part of the past two years preparing for the inevitable.

But he had never revealed his true intentions to anyone else before. Mostly for their own safety; in case his father ever came to suspect something and decided to question Pansy, Vincent or any of the others, using whatever means necessary. His friends were much better off, being kept in the dark.

Now here he was, about to confide in Harry Potter, of all people.

The irony of the situation definitely wasn't lost on him.

"Draco?" a voice behind him called.

He turned around and smiled. "Harry."

The Gryffindor looked a little nervous. "You needed to talk?"

"Yes," Draco said softly, "and I think we'd better sit down. It's a long story; a complicated one too. That is, I hope you're well enough to be here now, aren't you? I wouldn't want you to get ill again."

Harry gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Draco nodded and together, they sat down on one of the benches.

"Right," Draco began. "You already know that Mother and I don't support the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Well, during these past two years, I've been independently studying a fair amount of, let's say, extracurricular subjects."

Harry's eyes widened. "Dark Arts?" he guessed. "Wandless magic?"

"Yes. Among other things. A lot of other things."

Harry was silent for a moment. Then, entirely on impulse, he grabbed Draco's hand and gently urged him to continue.

"Right." The Slytherin took a deep breath. "I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what it feels like, to have to lead your life based entirely on certain expectations others have of you."

"No," Harry said softly.

"From before I could even walk, my father already had me pegged as the Dark Lord's new right hand. When I was as young as four, he began to teach me questionable spells, and whenever I got something wrong, my failure earned me a nice dose of _Cruciatus_, or worse. Things on that front didn't exactly improve when I got older, either."

Harry gently rubbed his thumb over the back of Draco's hand. He was suddenly rather glad that the worst uncle Vernon could do was yell, kick and punch.

"Initially," Draco went on, "in spite of the way I was treated at home, I thought it was pretty cool to have such a powerful father. Simply by being a Malfoy and acting like one, I got respect from people, important people; mostly because they were scared shitless. So when I got to Hogwarts, I decided to use that to my advantage." He grinned wryly. "And you know, it actually worked for a while. Call it a survival strategy, if you will, but it made me feel safer, and I finally had a place where I was untouchable, too. "

Harry nodded. He didn't think that anything of what Draco had just told him could ever excuse the boy's horrible behaviour from before, in particular the way he'd treated Hermione, but still, it did explain a few things.

"Anyway," Draco spoke up again, "during the course of second year, some things changed. Mother and I became closer. We firetalked once a day and, for what was probably the first time in my life, she and I really _talked_. Lucius prefers, no demands, women to be beautiful and especially silent, so there hadn't been much of that, back at the Manor. At around the same time, I was also starting to have my doubts about the Dark Side's philosophies; the more I learned about Voldemort and his cronies, the more I realized, I wanted no part of that." He stopped talking for a while, as if he was debating with himself on whether or not to continue.

Harry gave the hand he was holding an encouraging squeeze. "What else, Draco?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, then another thing happened. Kind of out of the blue, I developed a rather huge crush... on a boy. This scared the living daylights out of me. I knew father eventually wanted me to marry and carry on that all-important Malfoy name; another matter that had been hammered into my skull from a very young age. He'd kill me, possibly literally, if he ever found out I didn't even fancy girls. That's when I finally broke down. One night, I told mother everything. Her reaction was surprising, to say the least. Even though I knew that, unlike father, she'd never harm me, I had expected her to at least be disappointed or angry." He gave a small smile. "She wasn't, not at all. She admitted that she'd never really been a follower of the Dark Lord in the first place and hadn't even known how deeply involved Lucius was until she was pregnant with me. We talked for ages, and things got very emotional that night, as I'm sure you can imagine, this became the final turning point for me. "

Harry just nodded.

Draco sighed. "You know, in a way, it's my fault that she's trapped there, Harry. If I hadn't been born... " He trailed off. "Neither of us can keep this up for much longer. One way or another, it has to end. I'm genuinely scared for her well-being now."

Harry didn't say a word, as he tried to process this new information and at the same time, rhyme it with the Malfoy he'd seen strutting around Hogwarts all these years.

_Fuck. If only I'd known earlier._

"Anyway," Draco broke the silence again. “In my note, I mentioned some worrying news."

Harry nodded.

"It seems that Lucius has been a busy little bee lately. Mother thinks he and his friends are plotting an unpleasant surprise for Hogwarts. If my assumptions are correct, whatever it may be, it is linked to the Tournament. There's no gentle way to break this to you, Harry, but my guess would be that you're not expected to survive the final Task."

At those words, Harry felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He held on to Draco's hand a little tighter. "I knew it was a set-up," he said sadly, "I had no idea _what_ or _how_, but it just didn't make sense for it to be anything else."

"No, I suppose it didn't," Draco agreed.

"So.. now what?"

The Slytherin couldn't _not_ see the fear in those green eyes. "_Now_, Harry," he said, trying to keep his voice light, "I'm going to be the best DADA teacher you've ever had. Granted, that may be up against some pretty substandard competition…"

Harry grinned at the memory of that pompous disaster otherwise known as Lockhart.

"Nevertheless," Draco went on, "we'll figure something out. Tomorrow, after dinner, we start training in my room; if that suits you?"

"It does."

Harry shivered again, this time from actual cold. "Maybe we should get back inside, huh?" he suggested. "Before we freeze to death."

"Yeah.”

When they stood up again, they finally let go of each other's hand. They both felt a little uncertain and awkward when they realized that during their entire conversation, they'd actually been holding hands.

Just like yesterday.

"Draco?" Harry asked, as they were walking back to the castle.

"Hm?"

"Would you mind telling me who it was?"

"Who _what_ was?"

"The boy you had a crush on in second year."

"Ah, that."

Draco stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face his companion.

_Screw caution, bugger common sense and to hell with all things Malfoys aren't supposed to do!_

"It was you," he said softly. "Funny how everything in this world always seems to revolve around Harry Potter, isn't it?"

"Oh," was all Harry could utter, suddenly blushing furiously again.

Draco smiled and stepped a little closer. "Would I be right in saying that I'm not the only one here who feels this attraction between us, or is that just wishful thinking on my behalf?"

Harry's cheeks fast turned a fetching shade of deep crimson. "You still... feel... like that?" he stammered.

Draco nodded. "Even more now than in second year, if I'm absolutely honest."

Harry took a deep breath. "Um, I feel it too," he finally whispered.

Draco moved even closer, until they were toe to toe. He gently ruffled Harry's hair, and leaned in. And then, somewhere between the Quidditch pitch and the castle, all impending dangers temporarily forgotten, the two boys shared their first kiss.

It couldn't have been more perfect.

  


 


	12. The Art Of War

"Someone's looking exceptionally perky this morning," Pansy remarked as she and her best friend walked up to the Great Hall for breakfast. "I wasn't aware Malfoys even did perky!"

"Well." Draco smirked. "How about I'll be Parkinson for the day, and then you can be Malfoy?"

"Nice try, Draco. But I doubt Neville would approve." She chuckled and added with a mischievous grin, "Besides, Potter isn't exactly my type."

Draco gave her a wide-eyed look, which earned him another small laugh.

"You two got together last night," Pansy stated matter-of-factly, "and don't even bother denying it!"

"I wasn't going to."

"Good."

"Shit."

"What?"

"Is it that obvious, Pans?"

"To me, yes. But then, I _have_ always been exceptionally observant. As for the rest of Hogwarts..." She grinned. "How shall I put this? Imagine you and Potter were snogging each other senseless in the middle of the Great Hall. People left and right would probably be running off to Pomfrey, claiming to be suffering from severe hallucinations, rather than even consider the possibility of you two being involved. The concept is too… reality-shattering. And frankly, Draco, I'm still coming to terms with it myself, as well. You guys despised each other for years. And then that _minions_ business recently..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"He feels really lousy about that now, you know," Draco replied.

"Well, so he bloody well should! Anyway, all I'm saying is, I am happy for you, sweetie, truly. Just... don't fall too hard, too soon... Be careful, alright?"

"Of course." He smiled. "You know me, Pans. I'm always careful."

"Hm," she murmured, not looking terribly convinced.

* * *

With a wide smile on his face, Harry Potter left that morning's Divination class.

Trelawney had thrown the usual predictions in his face; tales of approaching doom, neatly wrapped up in a package of dread.

For once, he hadn't let it spoil his mood. Things were bad enough already, without paying too much attention to that madwoman.

Well, not all things, obviously...

Letting his thoughts drift to Draco again, he never noticed another person come up behind him.

The next thing he knew was that someone grabbed his arm and dragged him into an empty classroom. It all happened incredibly fast. Before he could reach for his wand, he was already forcefully pinned against a wall.

His assailant turned out to be Pansy Parkinson. The girl had a murderous expression on her face.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, Potter," she began, her voice full of menace. "Draco Malfoy has been my best friend for most of my life. He's like the brother I never had. So..." She fixed him with a deadly glare. "Allow me to put this to you plainly and simply. Should you decide to break his heart, I will personally break every bone in your scrawny body in return. And not necessarily using magic, either. Do we understand each other?"

Harry, amazed at how such a small girl could be this strong and intimidating, gulped and nodded. "I care about Draco,” he croaked out. “I have no intention of hurting him,"

"Good boy," Pansy said. She released Harry and without another word, marched back out of the classroom, leaving the bewildered Gryffindor staring after her.

* * *

For the third time that evening, Draco felt himself being blasted across the room.

"Right." He smirked, sitting up again, very grateful for his soft carpet. "I'm starting to suspect that someone here - that would be you, Potter, has some serious issues with both anger and magic management."

"Um. Sorry?" Harry offered sheepishly.

"That won't help us one bit. Let me think..."

Draco sat down on the sofa, gesturing Harry to join him.

"Right," he went on, taking the other boy's hand in his. "The problem here, as I see it, is that you have this enormous magical force inside of you that seems to take control of you most of the time, when it should be the other way around. You've never actually received proper training, have you?"

Harry shook his head. "Apart from some private lessons with Lupin, but they were very specific, mostly focusing on Dementors and such."

Draco nodded. "I see. And would I also be right in assuming that most of the successful magic you've done so far was fuelled by anger? A situation pissed you off to the point where you couldn't take it anymore, so you eventually snapped and lashed out in all directions?"

Harry thought this over for a few moments. "Well, more or less. I once blew up my aunt Marge without meaning to."

Draco's eyes widened. "Come again?"

"It was back at my uncle Vernon's house. They had her over for the holidays and for some reason, she kept saying horrible things about my parents. One night, she really went too far with her insults. I got really worked up, and suddenly, all the glass in the room shattered. And then aunt Marge inflated like a balloon and flew out the window."

"Bloody hell!"

"Yeah. The Ministry had quite a job cleaning up after that."

Draco smiled. "Sounds like the bitch deserved it, though."

"Definitely."

"Anyway, so in order to tap into your magic, you have to get mad first?"

Harry frowned. "I suppose so."

Draco smirked. "Well, that certainly explains why you couldn't even strike me the first five attempts, but then when your frustration got the better of you, there I was, quite literally bouncing off the walls. Glad we have that figured out."

Again, the room fell silent.

Draco had to admit, he was more than a little worried about his latest discovery and about the fact that they still had a lot of work to do and not all that much time left to do it in.

It also completely baffled him that Harry hadn't been formally trained. That really didn't make sense. Unless, of course, what Dumbledore’s Side was really after wasn't a saviour as much as a martyr.

Come to think of it, that would be just like them, wouldn't it; let Harry make the ultimate sacrifice for their Cause? As if the boy hadn't suffered enough already...

_Well, no such thing is going to happen, _ Draco silently promised himself, _Not if I have anything to do with it._

"Right, Harry," he finally said. "I've got an idea. Can you think of a situation or a person that slightly irritates you, but not to the point of wanting to hex them into another dimension?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, and replied, "Um, Trelawney this morning?"

Draco nodded. "Alright. That might work. Come on."

They stood up again.

"Think of Trelawney, Harry," he instructed. “Then point you wand at me and cast the spell."

Harry took a deep breath, recalled this morning's insane ranting, and shouted, "Tomblures!"

Draco instantly felt himself drop to the floor. He looked up at Harry and gave him a wide smile. "Much better! Now let's try some mind spells, shall we?"

* * *

"Do you know where Harry is?" Ron asked, getting bored with his crossword puzzle.

"No," Hermione said, not looking up from her book, "haven't seen him since dinner."

"Oh. Do you reckon we should check the Map?"

"No, Ronald," she spoke sternly, loudly snapping her book shut for emphasis. "We most certainly should not! Friends don't violate each other's privacy like that! Most likely, he just wants some time by himself. This Tournament is taking a lot out of him."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Um. Say, Hermione..."

"Yes?"

"Aren't you meeting Krum tonight?"

"No. He has Quidditch practice."

"Ah." Ron brightened up considerably. "How would you feel about a game of chess?"

Hermione smiled and nodded.

* * *

After almost three hours of vigorous training, Draco plopped himself down on his bed. "You know, I've always wanted to put words inside your head, Potter!" he grinned. "And now, I finally can!"

Lying down next to the other boy, Harry smiled. "I'm exhausted. Are mind spells always so draining?"

"Usually, yes. Especially if you have to create a psychic link of some kind, no matter how temporary."

"Hm". Harry moved a little closer, resting his head against Draco's chest. "Would you mind if I slept here tonight? I don't know if I could still make it up to the Tower, even if I wanted to."

"Mind?" Draco wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. "Who knows? Maybe I even wore you out on purpose, just so I could keep you here with me."

Harry grinned from ear to ear as he remarked, "You _would_."

  



	13. Shattered Glass

A knock at the door interrupted Potions. One of the nurse's aides walked in and went up to professor Snape.

There was some animated whispering between the two and briefly, a look of complete shock passed over the teacher's face, before his trademark expression of superiority and disinterest slipped back into place.

Stalking towards the door, he stated, "Class, turn your book to page five hundred and sixty-seven! By the next lesson, I expect a two-page essay on the medicinal uses of Sweet Hedgethorn. Mister Malfoy, I'm sure I can leave you in charge. Do not hesitate to deduct points if so required. Good day."

The door slammed shut behind him.

"Wow, I wonder what that was about," Ron whispered.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and, not wanting to attract Malfoy's attention, began to read.

Five minutes later, Harry grabbed the note that landed on his desk.

  
_Mister Potter,_

Ten points from Gryffindor for sitting there looking too irresistible for your own good and distracting me in the process.  
D.M.

  
It was slowly getting to be a habit; Harry blushed bright red.

At the other side of the room, Draco grinned at a plan well executed.

* * *

"She's alive," a worried Madame Pomfrey spoke. "It's thankful Hagrid found her in time. Otherwise, I'd hate to think..."

The Potions Master just nodded. With a dark look on his face, he turned towards the patient again.

Lying in the hospital bed was the bruised and battered form of Narcissa Malfoy. She gave her old friend a sad smile.

Snape clenched his fists in his pockets, barely able to contain his rage.

_Just you wait, Lucius. Just you damned well wait..._

* * *

Mid afternoon, all students present watched curiously as Draco Malfoy strode through the corridors, looking like he was about to kill.

Crabbe and Goyle were closely behind him, their facial expressions clearly warning everyone to keep AT a safe distance.

Hermione rolled her eyes. This gangster nonsense had stopped being funny years ago.

* * *

Harry hadn't seen Draco at dinner. He had, of course, been told all about the little display earlier on, or as Ron had called it, "Malfoy strutting his stuff in front of a bored audience."

Harry pulled his invisibility cloak over his head and quickly headed down to the Slytherin section.

He had a bad feeling about all this; he was convinced that something here was very wrong and the sooner he found Draco, the better.

* * *

Accidental Magic, was that what had shattered his bathroom mirror? Draco wasn't certain. At least a simple Reparo had quickly fixed it again.

He sat down on his bed and sighed, fighting back (and for now resisting) the urge to start hitting the wall again.

He'd always known his father to be mercilessly cruel, but until now, he hadn't thought the man capable of stooping to ordinary, physical violence.

_How very classy of you, Lucius. Not to mention brave, beating up a woman half your size._

There was a gentle tap at the door.

"Yes?"

Harry walked in.

"Thank Merlin, you're here!" Draco choked out, and then the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since he'd laid eyes on his mother's wretched state finally found their way to the surface.

In one swift movement, Harry was beside him. "Hey," he whispered, pulling his boyfriend into his arms, “what happened?"

"Mother's in the hospital wing," Draco managed in between sobs. "He beat the crap out of her."

"_He?_” Harry frowned. “You don't mean _Lucius_, do you?"

"Yeah, him."

"Shit. I'm so sorry."

Harry tightened his embrace and gently rocked the other boy back and forth. They stayed like that for quite a while, and when the tears finally stopped, Harry leaned in for a gentle kiss. Draco eagerly kissed him back. More than anything, he longed to feel comforted and loved, right now.

Too caught up in the moment, neither of them heard the door open or sensed another presence in the room.

That is, until a familiar voice suddenly bellowed, "What the bloody hell is going on here, mister Malfoy and…” There was a deep intake of breath. “…Mister Potter?"

Harry and Draco sprang apart and turned around in the direction of the noise.

Standing in front of them was Severus Snape. He had his arms crossed and looked both enraged and mildly nauseated.

"Well," the Potions Master spoke again, "do tell, Draco, how long have you been engaging in questionable activities with that... that _individual_?"

The boy wasn't sure if it had been the word _questionable_ that had sent him over the edge, the very implication that what he and Harry had together was somehow wrong and shameful. Of course, it could also have been the way Snape had referred to Harry as ‘that individual’... Either way, Draco suddenly found himself furiously snapping back at his godfather, "Do tell, Severus, how long have you been engaging in romantic delusions about my mother?"

Harry's mouth opened and quickly closed again. This had the potential to get very ugly indeed.

"How dare you speak out of terms to me like that?" Snape yelled. "Who do you think you are? And how dare you accuse me of... of... ?"

Draco sneered. "I dare, Severus, because I know what I saw earlier. I'm neither blind nor stupid, something you, of all people, should know. Or do you choose to deny how you feel about her?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, boy," he said indignantly.

"Right back at you, _Sir_! And now, unless there was something else, I'd really prefer if you left my private quarters. My boyfriend and I were just in the middle of something when you barged in."

"Boyfriend," Snape repeated grimly, turning an even deathlier shade of pale. Then he regained his composure and stated, "Your mother is resting comfortably. She should be much better by morning. You can see her then."

"Thank you."

The professor shot the two boys a final venomous glare and quickly made his exit, black robes billowing dramatically behind him.

Heading back to his own chambers, he considered casting a strong Obliviate on himself. The image of his godson and the Potter spawn all over each other wasn't one he wanted to remember for too long.


	14. Silver And Cold

The antique grandfather clock in Draco's room struck six.

Carefully, he disentangled himself from a sleeping Harry's embrace.

He was glad he hadn't had to spend last night alone. The threat of Lucius suddenly felt frighteningly real, not to mention entirely too close.

He glanced over at the snoozing boy in his bed.

The more time he spent in Harry’s company, the more he understood why the Gryffindor had such loyal friends who'd gladly follow him to the ends of the earth and back again.

Harry truly and genuinely cared about people.

Not too long ago, Draco would undoubtedly have dismissed that trait as foolish and sappy, yet another aspect of Saint Potter for him to hate.

The way things were now, however, he could only find it endearing.

Was he finally going soft?

* * *

Sitting up in bed, Narcissa sipped at her Camomille tea.

Last night's potions had done wonders for her aches and bruises, but overall, she still felt rather weak. According to the nurse, she'd regain full recovery in a few days. Physically, at any rate.

As expected, Dumbledore had already been over for a visit, promising her indefinite sanctuary at Hogwarts.

In addition, the old wizard hadn't exactly jumped up on a table, waving a large flag that had screamed “Defect To The Light Side", but he might as well have done; and it would have been less patronizing too, than the manner in which he'd actually handled the matter.

_How wonderful,_ she thought as she recalled his speech, _to be regarded as a complete halfwit!_

But then, she had to admit, the fact that she'd married Lucius Malfoy in the first place probably didn't speak too favourably for her intelligence to begin with.

* * *

Draco came out of the bathroom, grabbed a fresh tie from his enormous wardrobe and briefly walked back to the bed. Harry was still in deep slumber.

"I'm going to visit mother now," Draco whispered, gently kissing his boyfriend's cheek. "See you later, and don't sleep too late."

"Hm," Harry mumbled.

* * *

"Good morning, Mother!"

Narcissa beamed him a smile. "Draco, how wonderful to see you, darling!"

He sat down in the chair next to the bed, and took her hand. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, getting there."

Draco nodded. He was relieved that she no longer looked as dreadful as she had done last night. Even the black eye was already healing.

"I truly hate to ask," he began, "but now that we have a moment alone. Why did Father...?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm afraid, my dear, that Lucius has finally lost whatever was still left of his mind. He wants you to take the Mark as soon as possible."

"What?" Draco felt himself go pale. "I'm barely fifteen!"

"That's what I said too, love. I tried pleading with him, begged him to wait. He wouldn't hear of it. He started yelling at me that you have a duty towards The Cause and that the Dark Lord insists on claiming you at his earliest convenience. When I didn't agree, and flat-out refused to see things his way, your father became violent. "

"Claiming me," Draco repeated. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I think the Dark Lord wants you for his Inner Circle."

He swallowed hard, and they sat in silence for quite a while.

Draco was starting to feel increasingly sick. "We'll find a way out of this, right?" It was more an attempt to reassure himself than an actual question.

"We most certainly shall," Narcissa said determinedly, squeezing her son's hand. "To begin with, we can stay here at the castle, where we'll be much safer than back at the Manor; for the moment, anyway. In the meantime, dear, have you managed to find out anything about what the Death Eaters have in store for Hogwarts?"

"Yes and no," Draco said. "Nothing I can prove, but I'm pretty sure they're intending to sabotage the third Task."

"Task? Of the Triwizard Tournament, you mean?"

He nodded. "I think they're after Harry Potter again. I've been... We've been training together. I'm trying to prepare him, just in case..."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "You told Harry Potter of your plans and are now helping the boy? That's certainly a turn-up for the books! Are you quite sure he can be trusted?"

"I'd trust him with my life, mother."

"Alright, love. Then I guess you'd better start from the beginning and tell me what's been going on."

Draco took a deep breath. This was going to be quite the talk.

* * *

As he heard the clock strike eight, Harry Potter cursed loudly.

He had only just woken up and his first class was in precisely forty-five minutes.

_Damn you, Draco Malfoy, for not kicking me out of bed this morning!_

Quickly, he leapt up. Still wearing yesterday's outfit, he picked up the shoes and tie that lay discarded on the floor and put them on.

Then, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head, and hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.

If he was very lucky, he might still get a shower and some breakfast in.

* * *

"So it seems you have a boyfriend," Narcissa said softly, a warm smile on her face.

Draco nodded. "You don't have a problem with that, do you, mother?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. I do have one question, though. It's a little indiscreet on my behalf, but..."

"Yes?"

"You say this boy stays in your room at night. You're still so young. Things aren't getting too serious, too fast, are they?"

It was probably the last question Draco had expected. Had he been Harry, he would most certainly be blushing now.

Malfoys, thankfully, did not blush, so he just said, "Don't worry, Mother, we're not doing anything we're not ready for."

"Oh?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Okay, so maybe Malfoys did blush.

"We kiss and hold hands and snuggle and sleep in each other's arms," he said quickly, "and comfort each other when we're sad."

Again, Narcissa smiled, as her son’s blush deepened even further. "I'd like to meet your Harry one of these days. He sounds like a lovely boy."

* * *

The Tower was mostly deserted by the time Harry got there.

Only one person greeted him when he walked into the Common Room. It was Hermione. She'd left one of her books behind.

"Harry!" she exclaimed "There you are! Where on earth have you been?"

"Long story,” he said. "Can I explain later? I still have to shower and change."

"Sure," came the response. "I'll save you a seat. You only have twenty minutes though, so hurry up!"

"Alright. Thanks!"

As she watched her best friend rush to the showers, it occurred to Hermione that something about him had looked different than usual, not exactly _right_.

She pondered on the matter as she walked down the stairs.

It hadn't been his hair. Or his glasses. Or his bag. No, nothing unusual about any of those.

Suddenly, Hermione finally realized what she'd seen. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

The boy had been wearing a green tie. A Slytherin tie.

_Oh my goodness, Harry! What have you been up to?_


	15. Out Of The Frying Pan

Ever since Harry had tipped off the older student about the first Task, he and Cedric had reached an understanding. Whenever one of them found out anything important, anything at all that might help keep them safe during this Tournament, he'd share it with the other. That was simply the fair and sensible thing to do.

So here they were again today, standing by the lake.

"Alright then, Harry," Cedric began. "My dad Owled me this morning. Apparently, the third Task involves an enchanted maze."

Harry frowned. "Enchanted?"

"Well, more like cursed. According to the information father received, it feeds off people's fears and insecurities. The braver and less afraid you are, the more likely you are to make it through unscathed."

"Right. And if you get very scared?"

"Therein lies the catch, I expect. "

Harry considered this for a moment. "Alright, Cedric. Thanks!"

"No problem."

They shook hands.

As the Hufflepuff walked off again, Harry decided that an enchanted maze didn't sound too problematic. He could just use some kind of psychic protection spell and find his way through. So there had to be more to the Task than just the maze, right? Surely, it couldn't be that simple?

He decided to discuss the matter with Draco tonight.

* * *

Hermione didn't talk much at lunch. For once, she didn't bother to read at the table, either.

Instead, she kept a watchful eye on the Slytherin side of the room. Harry was _missing_ again, so it seemed like an opportune time to check for other absentees; particularly amongst the females.

Oddly enough, she didn't notice any empty seats.

* * *

"Surely, this isn't that big an issue, Severus!" Narcissa exclaimed, suddenly very irritated with the man.

"Not a big issue, Cissa? Your son is dating The-Twit-Who-Would-Not-Die, doing unthinkable things with him in his private chambers, even! Frankly, I'm still nauseous from the revolting display I was unfortunate enough to walk in on last night. Truly, I'd hate to even consider for a moment what Lucius is going to do when he finds out."

"_When_, Severus? Surely you mean _if_? Or do you intend to inform him yourself?"

The Potions Master was obviously taken aback by that implication. "No. Of course not."

"Well," Narcissa stated, "neither do I. In fact, as soon as I have fully regained my wits, I will take the necessary steps to have my marriage contract terminated. I believe spousal abuse is valid grounds for divorce under Wizarding Law, is it not?"

Snape just nodded slowly.

"With a great financial advantage to the abused, no less," she added with a bitter laugh. "So, henceforth, Draco and myself will no longer be associating ourselves with Lucius."

"I understand completely. But what about...?"

"Yes, Severus? Go on."

"Your allegiance to The Dark Lord?"

Narcissa dramatically rolled up her left sleeve. "Do you see a Dark Mark there?" she challenged.

He shook his head, looking... was that relieved?

"Right, then," the woman spoke again. "I have always prided myself on taking a neutral stance in this war and I wish to keep it that way. Politics don't interest me in the least. My main, no my only concern right now is the safety of my son and myself."

"Of course."

The room was silent for a few very tense minutes.

"Anything I can do to help?" Snape asked, slightly surprising Narcissa.

Yes, only slightly. She'd had her suspicions about his feelings towards her for a while now. And at the moment, it seemed more than justified to use them to her advantage. _All's fair in love, war and self-preservation,_ she thought, _especially self-preservation._

"If you could get hold of a competent solicitor, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, certainly. I'll see to the matter straight away."

"Thank you. And Severus?" She beamed him a dazzling smile. "You will keep quiet about my son's relationship, won't you? Regardless of how you feel about the Potter boy, poor Draco has been through enough heartache already. It would upset me greatly to see him get more hurt."

He nodded. "That goes without saying."

At that, Snape exited the room, hoping he'd find a solicitor brave or suicidal enough (or possibly both) to take on Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

That evening in his room, Draco burst out laughing.

"Good grief, Potter, you really are daft sometimes, do you know that? I can't believe you actually put on the wrong tie this morning! Bloody hell! I can just picture you, walking into class like that. Imagine the look on Snape's face! Worse, imagine the look on Weasley's face! Really, Harry, what am I going to do with you?"

"Hey, at least I noticed when I went to take a shower," he protested with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, you did. Thank Merlin!"

Still grinning, Draco pulled the other boy closer to him. "Don't look so serious," he whispered, running his fingers through Harry's hair. "No harm was done."

"You're right," the Gryffindor agreed. "I suppose I'm just a little scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

Harry sighed. "Screwing up and losing you. You know, all those years, you were just about the only one who treated me like a regular person. You saw right through that hero/saviour/whatever crap. And yes, most of the time you were a complete bastard to my friends and me, but at least you made me feel.. I don't know... normal? Obviously, what we have now is a thousand times better and I don't miss you being a prat to me, but..."

Draco cut him off with a kiss. "Shhh. I'm not going anywhere. Believe it or not, I've become rather fond of you, Harry Potter."

Harry smiled. "Maybe it's too early to say this, but... I... I think I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," came the response. "That's what I meant as well. But it's not a very Malfoy thing to say."

Harry was now grinning widely, feeling happier than he'd done in a very long time. "I'll have to read that book some day." He chuckled.

"What book?"

"The Malfoy Code Of Conduct."

"Ah. Well, I'll see if I can pick up a revised edition for you."

"Hm, I wonder if it says anything about me..."

"Probably not." Draco laughed and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend again. "I think they're still figuring out how to handle you."

* * *

Back in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was getting increasingly worried. It was already well past midnight and all her housemates had long retired to their dormitories; all with the exception of one...

"Right," she decided. "This might make me a hypocrite. But you're genuinely scaring me here, Harry!"

Determinedly, she opened up the Marauder's Map.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to discover.

Somewhere down in the Slytherin part of the castle, she saw a dot bearing Harry's name. Right next to it, there was another dot, _Draco Malfoy_.

A loud gasp rang through the otherwise quiet Common Room.

Still staring at the Map, Hermione didn’t move for a very long time.


	16. Calm Before The Storm

Harry had come to realize that Slytherin loyalty was highly underrated by the other Houses.

He was currently enjoying a delicious breakfast in Draco's private quarters. The meal had been brought up from the kitchens by Vincent Crabbe.

Neither Crabbe nor Goyle had as much as batted an eye at him earlier. They'd just said "Morning" to both Draco and himself, and had quickly left the room again.

Not that Harry had any complaints about this, of course, but it had been, to put it mildly, rather unexpected.

He couldn't imagine Ron or Hermione reacting so casually, if and when they found out. And they would learn the truth, eventually. At Hogwarts, things had a way of not staying a secret for very long.

Inwardly, Harry shuddered at the prospect.

Buttering his toast, Draco broke the comfortable silence. "So, how do you plan on spending your Saturday?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I've got nothing planned."

"What do you usually do?"

"Read, study, go flying, spend time with Ron and Hermione; well, mostly Ron these days, since Hermione's dating Krum. I should probably go up to the Tower soon, and make an appearance, before they start worrying about me."

Draco nodded. "Do you feel up to doing some training this afternoon? We only have a little more than a week left now."

"Sure."

"And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking about that maze. Perhaps it would be best if we both went in. I'm certain I can come up with some kind of temporary invisibility spell for myself."

"There's always the cloak too."

At that, Draco grinned. "A cloak we wouldn't want to get _lost_ or _left behind_, surely?"

"Heh. Point taken. It's going to be extremely dangerous, though."

"Yes, well," Draco said dryly, "I'm already on the verge of defying my father, and Voldemort with him. Might as well go the whole hog, while I'm at it."

Harry just smiled.

* * *

Hermione was on a mission.

"Parkinson!" she called out. "Hang on! Wait a minute!"

Pansy stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. "Granger?"

"Hi," Hermione said with a small smile. "Um, do you think you and I could have a chat? Somewhere private?"

Pansy shrugged. "Of course, but we'll have to make it quick, though. Nev's taking me to Hogsmeade in half an hour."

"No problem. This won't take long."

Outside in the courtyard, they sat down on a bench.

"Alright," Hermione began. "You know Draco Malfoy better than anyone, don’t you?”

Pansy raised her eyebrows, a bit astonished that the topic of the conversation turned out to be Draco.

"I suppose so," came the tentative response.

"Do you know if he and Harry... Gah, scrap that! What I mean is, I think Draco and Harry are up to something."

"Up to something?" Pansy repeated, struggling hard to contain the grin that was pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, um, they were in this room together last night, all of last night. They're probably still there now too."

Pansy was amazed. "What? You spied on them or something?" _And so much for goody-two-shoes Granger, then._

"Huh? No," Hermione stammered. "No, not exactly. Harry has this Map, you see. It shows you where on Hogwarts grounds everyone is. He went missing last night, so I...."

"Hm, I'd call that spying, Granger," Pansy said pointedly. “Yes. Most definitely spying!"

"Well...Yes, alright," Hermione admitted half-heartedly. "I suppose I was, kind of, but Ron and I hardly see him these days and when we do, he's always distracted and behaving oddly. I thought something was seriously wrong... So I did a little detective work..."

"... and you proceeded to catch him and Draco red-handed by means of the magical Map?" Pansy grinned.

"Um, that's the long and short of it, yes." Hermione sighed. "Do you know what's going on? You _do_, don't you?"

For a moment, Pansy didn't say a word.

Granted, during the course of the past week, she had changed her opinion of Granger fairly drastically, all for the better. But how would Draco feel about Hermione knowing? The meddling Gryffindor wasn't exactly his favourite person here at Hogwarts. Not to mention that she might just blab the information to Weasley too, instantly landing both Draco and Harry in no uncertain hell.

On the other hand, Hermione was Potter's best friend and she wouldn't want to see him get hurt any sooner than Pansy would Draco, right?

"Alright, Hermione." The Slytherin finally made her decision. "If you really must know, and I'm sure part of you already does, anyway, while the rest is just waiting for it to sink in, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have somehow managed to become, shall we say, _romantically involved_? I don't know how. I don't know why. Possibly, fate's playing a huge joke on us all. But, there we are."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "That's what I was afraid of. And you know, I wasn't even aware Harry's, um..."

"... gay?" Pansy suggested with a grin.

"Yes. Goodness! And then fall for Malfoy, of all people! He's always hated Malfoy..."

"Well, you know what they say, Hermione, a thin line between love and hate, all that crap."

"Hm, I suppose..."

"Anyway, I have to go and get ready now," Pansy announced, standing up again. "A word of caution, though..."

"Yes?"

"For everyone's sake, I really don't think it would be wise of you to share this news with Weasley in the immediate future."

Hermione gasped. She'd been so wrapped up in her discovery that she hadn't even considered yet how Harry's other best friend would react.

_Probably not too well._

Yes, she decided, telling Ron would have to wait.

  


* * *

Down in his dungeon office, Professor Snape found himself pondering on a rather unpleasant topic.

The grave matter of Lucius Malfoy. Truth and consequences.

No, the master of Malfoy Manor would not be pleased to hear that his beautiful wife wanted a divorce and a whopping load of cash to go with it.

Nor would he be amused to learn that Draco flat out refused to take the Dark Mark and that his son was in fact adopting a neutral stance in this war now.

But that was not all. Even more bad news loomed on the horizon.

One day in the, one might hope distant, future, the head of what was presently still the Malfoy household was bound to discover that his only son, his one hope for carrying on the family name, did in fact prefer the company of men in general and what was much worse still, that of Harry Potter in particular.

And somewhere along the line, Lucius would undoubtedly also learn, possibly from Nott or Pettigrew, that his long-time associate Severus Snape had developed a romantic interest in Narcissa.

Explosive didn't even begin to describe how bad this situation could and in all likelihood would get. No one double-crossed, or in this case quadruple-crossed, Lucius Malfoy and got away with it. Hell would be paid, one way or another.

The Potions Master wondered if perhaps, this would be an opportune time to be looking into a career move. A reliable source had informed him that the summers at Durmstrang were rather agreeable.


	17. The Reckoning

Tired from all their spellwork, the boys were lying on Draco's bed, hands entwined. They had practiced for almost four hours that afternoon, mostly wandless magic and protection spells.

Once again, Harry had been surprised at how much Draco seemed to know. Looking back, he thought it was rather ironic that, only a few days ago, he'd actually considered himself competent enough to tutor the boy.

When it came to the important, life-saving stuff, Harry was barely in the same league. He couldn't help but wonder how he'd managed to get by thus far. On instinct? Sheer dumb luck? And, of course, having Ron and Hermione by his side had helped too.

Fortunately, his skills were swiftly improving now. He only hoped he'd be sufficiently prepared by the time the third Task rolled around.

Only a few more days to go.

Suppressing a yawn, he broke the silence. "We should probably head up to dinner soon."

"Hm."

Neither boy made any effort to move.

"People will start to wonder, you know," Harry said, sounding slightly concerned.

This earned him a sly grin. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "That is getting old really fast, Malfoy!"

Draco grinned mischievously. "Is it, now?" he challenged, and he sat up and playfully tackled Harry, pinning him further down into the mattress.

"Hey!" Harry began to protest, but then he looked up and saw bright grey eyes staring down at him. They shone with something he couldn't quite define. Whatever it was, though, Harry soon felt his own eyes reflect the same sentiment, and all of a sudden, the mood changed. An odd tension filled the air, and when mere seconds later, their lips met, it was with a longing and passion that neither boy had ever experienced before.

Their previous kisses had been gentle and sweet and altogether rather chaste. Nothing even remotely like this.

Was this part of what his mother had meant by _too serious, too fast_? Draco wasn't sure. He was, however, becoming acutely aware of the increase of heat in the room. And his heart was now beating so fast, he was afraid that, very soon, if they kept doing _this_, he wouldn't be able to breathe anymore.

He'd die right here on the spot, with Harry's lips on his, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, and with Harry's hands slowly moving under his shirt, giving him goose-bumps and making him shiver in a strangely enjoyable way. Well, he thought, it would be a pleasant death, at least.

Eventually, the need for oxygen won out, and they broke apart reluctantly; both of them breathing heavily and looking flushed, more than just a little overwhelmed by this new stage in their relationship.

"Wow," Harry whispered, wide-eyed and blushing.

Draco thought he looked absolutely adorable. "Wow is right," he said in a soft voice. Lowering his head onto the other boy's chest, he felt two arms snake around his back.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"That was... alright, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I'd say so."

Harry smiled. He closed his eyes, all thoughts of dinner forgotten.

* * *

The Lord of the Manor was gravely displeased.

He'd been pacing back and forth in his study for over an hour now, wondering where on earth his wife could be staying and more importantly, who he had to _Crucio_ in order to find out.

She wasn't with family, of that he was quite certain. None of those weaklings would dare risk the wrath of Lucius Malfoy.

She couldn't have gone to a wizard hotel or a safe house, either. Renting a room in such an establishment would instantly lead to rumours of marriage problems spreading like wildfire, and his wife was still discreet, if nothing else.

Having given the matter plenty of thought, he finally decided that the only hiding place that made any sense was Hogwarts Castle. The senile git in charge there would no doubt offer Narcissa sanctuary at the drop of a hat, and of course, she'd be near her darling son at the same time.

Lucius let out a deep sigh. Yes, Draco was definitely Narcissa's son, a spineless little mummy's boy. He had always known that all that mollycoddling Could only end in disaster.

He decided that, previous to dealing with his wife, he would have a few words with Draco too. It was about time the boy was reminded of his duty and destiny, the glorious future that awaited him at Voldemort's side, making the Malfoy name proud.

Yes indeed, according to Lucius, it was about time everyone went right back to where _he_ wanted them to be.

* * *

Up in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione found it very difficult to concentrate on her book.

She had only seen Harry briefly at lunch today and hadn't had the chance to talk to him properly.

She desperately needed to have a chat.

It didn't matter to her that he was gay. Why should it? They'd been best friends for years and there had never been any romantic interest on either side.

As for Malfoy...

She might even come to accept and tolerate him in due course, provided the Slytherin behaved himself and didn't call her horrid names every other word.

It was just... the fact that Harry hadn't taken her into his confidence yet, and the realization that Draco apparently trusted his friends more than Harry did her. That part of her discovery truly stung.

Hermione sighed. “Whatever happened to us, Harry?”

* * *

It was a quarter past one, when the hooded figure stealthily stalked the Slytherin corridors.

It was half past one, when the door to Draco's room flew open.

Lucius shook his head. Even now, the foolish boy obviously didn't feel the need to put up wards. And the security around here was already beyond laughable to begin with. Using the right kind of map, as well as a few passwords acquired by means of torture earlier, one could just walk straight into Hogwarts.

"Lumos," he whispered. And then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Had it not been for the fact that Malfoys did not faint, at this very moment, Lucius would most certainly be out cold on the floor.

On the bed in front of him, he spotted his only son, wrapped in the arms of -- Oh no, sweet Salazar, it can't be! -- Harry Potter. The sole Malfoy heir was sound asleep and looked like there was nowhere else he'd rather be in the whole wide world.

Lucius gulped. Then he started yelling. Yes, Malfoys definitely yelled.

"DRACO, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Harry and Draco instantly jerked awake, both bolting upright in bed. At the sight of an irate, red-faced Lucius, they were temporarily too stunned to speak.

"Is this what I raised you to be? Is this how you thank me, Draco?" the uninvited guest bellowed. "By quite literally sleeping with the enemy, bedding the sodding Golden Boy, the one real threat to our Lord and Master? You are a fucking disgrace to the Malfoy name!"

Overcome with absolute fury, Lucius pulled out his wand, aiming it squarely at Draco. "CRU- !"

He never got to finish the curse. Snapped back to his senses, Harry promptly fired off a wandless defense spell.

Wand still clenched in his hand, Lucius suddenly found himself being thrown against a wall. For a moment, he was surprised. Then he stood up again, a dark and venomous glare on his face.

"Well, well, Draco," he spoke, disdain dripping from his every word, "does your little friend here have to fight your battles for you now? Are you that much of a spineless coward? "

Draco stood up to face his father.

"On the contrary," the boy responded, desperate to keep the tremor out of his voice. "The only coward here, Lucius, is you! The only one to bring disgrace to our family name is you! Torturing children. Murdering innocent people in cold blood, simply because of their heritage. Groveling at the feet of some power-obsessed half-blood. How, pray tell, is any of that glorious? You're nothing but a servant now. A deadly assassin for a fucked-up Cause. How, may I ask, is that befitting of a Malfoy? Our ancestors must be turning in their graves at all the shit you've done!"

"HOW DARE YOU?" Lucius was once again screaming. "YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARD! You could have had it all! Eternal glory at Voldemort's side, high standing in a wizarding world of purebloods. Everything you wanted, right there at your fingertips. You could have made me proud."

Draco shook his head. His previous anxiety had now left him and had been replaced by anger and hatred; pure, unadulterated, hatred.

"I would rather die, father," he said flatly, "than do what it would require to make you proud. "

"So be it," Lucius said with a sneer. Again, he pointed his wand. "AVA... !"

But Draco was faster.

And so it was that, a split-second later, a green light shot across the room and Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's second in command, slumped down to the floor, dead by the hand of his own son.


	18. Tearing At The Seams

He'd worry about the consequences later and perhaps then, he'd allow himself to feel guilty or sad or relieved, or whatever the hell it was that he was supposed to be feeling, too.

Right now, however, he had other priorities.

Getting caught wasn't an option, plain and simple. The corpse that was currently lying on his floor had to disappear, preferably to somewhere it would never be found.

Draco tried not to think of it as the remains of his father.

He wasn't shaking when he went to get Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't break down in front of Pansy, either. Only whenever Harry looked at him with wide worried eyesn he felt a sudden urge to curl up into a ball and sob.

_"Malfoys never cry."_

Even now, his father's harsh voice still rang through his head.

Crabbe and Goyle snuck the body out of the castle and moved it to the Forbidden Forest. Harry joined them, while Draco stayed in his room with Pansy.

"You're distressed enough as it is, darling," she'd comforted him, "and that place has always creeped you out. Just let the other boys take care of it."

And take care of it, they did.

"Terrincendia!"

Somewhere deep in the woods, a large hole was scorched into the ground.

Lucius' body was laid to rest.

"Rodondestra!"

A thick, thorny bush shot up from the soil, fully covering the fresh grave.

Two Slytherins and a Gryffindor returned to the castle, relieved at a difficult job well done.

From that day on, Lucius Malfoy would be considered missing, presumed dead.

* * *

Draco didn't sleep one more wink that night. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his boyfriend's hand in his.

"You had no choice," Harry assured him over and over again. "It was either you or him, and had I been fast enough, or if I'd had my glasses…"

"I know. And something like this would have happened eventually, anyway. He was bound to find out the truth sooner or later, and he wasn't going to say, _alright then, son, no Dark Mark, fair enough, no hard feelings, bring your boyfriend over for tea next week_. You either did things his way, or you didn’t do them at all."

Harry gave a small smile. "At least you're free now, Draco."

"Yeah. I'm free. Mother's free. I saved us both. Then why do I feel like total shit, Harry? The man was a complete bastard, a murderer, the Dark Lord's lackey. But he was still my father too..." And just when Draco thought he was all cried out, even more tears found their way to the surface.

"I know. Come here." Harry pulled the other boy into his arms and gently stroked his hair. "It'll be fine," he whispered soothingly and he almost believed it himself.

* * *

Breakfast was a grim affair.

Harry had been very reluctant to leave Draco alone that morning, but the Slytherin had insisted on it. "The last thing we need on top of everything else, Harry, is an outburst of mass hysteria because The Golden Boy seems to have gone missing."

He'd had a point. _Curse the fame and expectations yet again._

So Harry was currently sitting at the Gryffindor table. Across from him, Hermione wore a concerned look.

"Something the matter, Harry?"

"No. I'm fine."

Hermione frowned. The way he angrily stabbed at his eggs definitely suggested otherwise. If Malfoy had anything to do with this, she'd be sure to hex him to next week at the very first opportunity she got.

"You're not terribly hungry, are you?" She forced a smile.

"No," Harry replied, putting his fork down, "I guess I'm not."

"Would you like to go and get some fresh air?"

"Um, sure. You coming, Ron?"

"What?" the boy exclaimed, pointing at his plate. "I'm nowhere _near_ done here, mate!"

Hermione smiled. "Of course you're not, Ronald." _And just as well that you're about as observant as a blind man looking for a black cat in a dark room._

* * *

They sat down on one of the benches alongside the lake.

"You know you can tell me anything, right, Harry?" Hermione began carefully.

He nodded. "I do."

"It's just..." She nervously wrung her hands. "You've been so distant lately."

He sighed. Yes, he'd been distant, alright. Ever since the Yule Ball, he'd hardly spoken to his two best friends; about important things, at least. And even before that… Yes, you could say he'd been off in his own world for quite a while now.

"Yes,” he finally said, "and I'm sorry."

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Is it..." She took a deep breath. "Is it because of _Malfoy_, Harry?"

"What?" he yelled, and leapt up, startled. Hermione _knew_? What did exactly did she know? And who else did? _Oh shit!_

"Harry..." She was now standing in front of him. "It's alright, really, it is. I was worried about you, so I decided to... Um, I looked at the Marauder's Map, and... "

"You did WHAT?"

He hadn't been in a brilliant mood to begin with, and this really wasn't helping his anger any. As if what had occurred between Draco and Lucius wasn't bad enough already, his supposed best friend had been spying on him, watching his every move?

"I'm sorry," Hermione stammered, clearly unsettled by the enraged expression on his face. "Like I said, I was worried. But really, Harry, it doesn't matter. If he makes you happy, I don't... but now, you're so... I mean, you don't seem happy at all. He didn't _hurt_ you or anything, did he?"

For a few moments, he just stared at her, utterly baffled. Then he let out a laugh. It sounded hollow and bitter. _How bloody typical,_ he thought.

"No," he spat out. "_Draco_ didn't hurt me. In fact, Draco has done the exact opposite of hurting me these past few days. You, on the other hand..." The look he gave her now was one of pure venom. "...ought to know better than to jump to conclusions about people you don't know a damned thing about. Not to mention, Hermione, you of all people should be smart enough to see when you have to mind your own fucking business!"

Ignoring the pleading "Harry" that followed, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the castle, not giving the girl another backward glance.


	19. Waltz Right In

Harry stormed down the stairs leading to the Slytherin Common Room, and bumped squarely into Theodore Nott.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?" the tall boy snarled. "Finally lost your marbles and forgotten which House you're supposed to be in? Can't say I'm at all surprised."

"Malfoy's expecting me," Harry said flatly, not feeling even the slightest bit intimidated.

Theodore sneered. "_Is_ he, now? Why do I find that rather hard to believe?"

Thankfully, Pansy arrived at exactly the right time. "It's fine, Theo," she interjected. "We invited Potter."

"Really? Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?"

She gave a dramatic sigh. "Wanting to had nothing to do with it. It was that old coot upstairs and his delusions about inter-House unity, yet again. So we have a few things we need to discuss with Scarhead here, unfortunately."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Figures. That loon has no respect for tradition whatsoever."

"You said it."

Pansy grabbed hold of Harry's arm. "Come on, Potter," she said. “Follow me. We wouldn't want you getting lost or snooping in Slytherin _affairs_ now, would we?"

Harry fought back a grin.

In front of Draco's room, the girl lowered her voice. "You should be a little more careful in future, Potter. Some people around here don't exactly share the same... _political_ views we do."

"Are you saying Nott's...?"

She nodded slowly. "Every bit his father's son, I'm afraid. Wouldn't think twice before hexing you into oblivion, if sufficiently provoked."

"Oh."

"And Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Draco's not doing too brilliantly right now. You seem to be the only one who can get through to him; Merlin knows why." She gave him a stern look. "So bloody well try to get through to him already, would you? If he stays in that mood for much longer, he's going to make himself sick, and he's going to look suspicious too. We don't need either of that, do we?”

"No," Harry agreed, surprised at how she could be so pragmatic and calculating at a time like this, "we don't."

* * *

Biting back tears, Hermione ran up the stairs and into the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Hermione?" That was Neville, putting his Herbology book aside. "Are you alright?"

She turned around and faced her concerned friend. "No, Nev, I guess I'm not."

"What happened?"

She joined him on one of the sofas.

"Harry's angry at me. More like _furious_." Her voice was shaking. "And I guess I deserve it."

"How so?"

"I found out," she began hesitantly. "Well, he's involved with someone, it seems. And I discovered it in a way I probably shouldn't have done. And now he's angry with me for checking up on him and not respecting his privacy. But I was just so frantically _worried_."

Neville smiled. "Well, you can't really blame Harry for not wanting to go public about Draco just yet, can you?"

"You. Knew." She was temporarily stunned, before she added quickly, "Yes, of course you knew. You're seeing Pansy!" _The smartest witch of my age, huh? I wonder._

Neville nodded. "So you and Harry had a huge fight?"

"I'm afraid so."

"It'll pass," he assured her. "This is Harry we're talking about, Hermione. He flies off the handle easily and for the smallest things, but he always comes around again in the end."

She gave him a small smile. "I hope you're right."

* * *

Not without a fair amount of trepidation, Harry headed down to Snape's office and knocked at the door.

"Yes?" A very annoyed Potions Master appeared in front of him. "What brings you here, Potter?"

Harry was certain that no one else in the whole wide world had the ability to spit out his last name with quite as much disgust and venom.

"It's about Draco and me, Sir."

Snape visibly shuddered. "Do I even want to hear this, Potter?"

"Um. We've both been having terrible nightmares, Sir. I was wondering..."

"Oh, very well, then." The man sighed resignedly. "You had better come in."

* * *

Draco eyed his boyfriend quizzically. "Snape actually gave you this?"

Harry smiled. "Well, technically, he prepared it for you. I believe his exact words were…" He cleared his throat. “_Keep in mind, Potter, that I am only doing this for the benefit of my godson. Any misguided demons that would be desperate enough to choose your subconscious to lurk around in at night are not worthy of my time_."

Draco laughed. "He was charming as ever, then?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah"

They settled down on the bed.

"You know, I didn't even go and see mother today," Draco said, suddenly sounding glum again. "Not a clue what to tell her, either. Or whether I should even tell her. She had already decided to leave him anyway. She wasn't planning on ever going back. Maybe it would be better to just keep quiet."

"Don't worry about it now," Harry whispered, taking Draco’s hand. "It'll all be a lot clearer once you've had some rest."

Draco sighed. "I hope you're right."

At two in the afternoon, Harry and Draco, courtesy of Snape's Dreamless Sleep Potion, were finally able to get some sleep. Tomorrow, classes and training would resume. Leaving them eight days until the final Task.


	20. In The Shadows

"Accio glasses," Harry whispered.

They were only on the nightstand, but he didn't want to let go of the boy who was sound asleep in his arms. Draco looked too happy and peaceful to disturb.

Harry pressed a light kiss against the boy’s forehead and gently stroked his hair. _You're so damned beautiful_, he thought. _Why didn’t I ever notice that before?_

Draco stirred. His eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," Harry whispered. "Feel any better?"

"Yeah." Draco smiled. "Like I've slept an eternity."

"Good."

Slowly, Harry ran his hands over his boyfriend’s back. Green eyes met grey again.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Would it be alright if I kissed you?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You suddenly have to ask, Harry?"

"No. Um. I mean..." Harry silently cursed his ever-present tendency to blush. "I mean properly kiss you like..."

"… Saturday after training?"

"Yes,” he whispered shyly.

Draco gave a sly grin and instead of answering the question, he gently pressed his lips to Harry's.

The kiss started softly, but quickly grew more intense. When they finally broke apart again, both boys were flushed and breathing heavily.

Another deep kiss followed. And another.

Trembling hands found their way under Draco's T-shirt. "This is alright, yeah?"

"Hm, absolutely. Mind if I return the favour?"

"Please."

Harry felt his pajama top being lifted. A tender kiss was planted somewhere near his navel. Then Draco’s mouth found his again, while soft fingers stroked a number of sensitive spots on his chest that he hadn't even known were there. This felt far too good. "Draco..." Harry’s breathing was ragged in between kisses. "I think you'd better stop. This is getting... too..."

"What? Do you _really_ want me to stop?"

"No. I… I don't want you to. But I... can't... Please, stop."

"Alright, Harry." Draco let go and moved back to his side of the bed.

For a few minutes, they lay next to each other, quietly waiting for their breathing to steady.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"How far... I mean, have you ever done anything like this before?"

Draco chuckled. "Why?"

Harry blushed Gryffindor red again. "You were my first kiss," he confessed softly, "and I'm a little confused about, well, what happens now and when and... Um, I'm kind of in over my head here, I'm afraid."

Draco laughed nervously. "Yes, and I'm the Slytherin sex god, of course, who knows exactly what to do, is that what you're saying?"

"Well, you do have... um, a reputation."

"Right. That." He snorted. "Draco Malfoy's harem of girlfriends. Not to mention my supposed betrothal to Pansy. Or is it Millicent this week, perish the thought?"

Draco grabbed hold of Harry's hand and continued, his voice soft once more, "Apart from a clumsy kiss with Zabini, of all people, which was a dare and a crappy one at that, I hadn't done anything like this before either. So you're my first too. Or you will be if we ever... Anyway, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable just now. I got a little carried away."

Harry smiled, trying not to worry about the rising colour in his cheeks. "I wasn't uncomfortable," he managed shyly. "Well, not in an unpleasant way. I just thought I was going to... you know, lose control." He bit his lip.

"I wouldn't have minded," Draco said simply, "but ... nothing's going to happen unless we're both ready for it." He placed a kiss on their intertwined fingers and then he glanced over at the grandfather clock.

"Oops," he said with a grin. "I think we may have a bit of a problem. Or rather, you do."

Harry frowned. "What problem?"

"In exactly forty minutes, our number one fan will be treating us to Double Potions."

"Oh no! Oh fuck!" Harry leapt from the bed, put on his shoes, kissed Draco on the cheek and then, his invisibility cloak wrapped around him, he raced up to Gryffindor Tower.

Rather like blushing, this too was fast becoming a habit.

* * *

Cedric Diggory had never been terribly fond of Divination. Come to think of it, he couldn't imagine a single student who was.

But a strong sense of duty (especially towards his father) had pushed him to take as many classes as possible this year. So he'd signed up for the boring subject, anyway. He could easily manage the extra work, and putting up with the Trelawney woman was well worth it, if it meant making his dad proud at the end of term.

So here he was, at a quarter past eight in the morning, on his way to his first class of the week.

Unlike Slytherins and to a lesser extent Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs didn't walk around constantly looking over their shoulder. They were trusting by nature and hardly ever had their guard up. They rarely exercised caution, either.

In that respect, Hufflepuffs weren't terribly wise.

Cedric never heard the cloaked figure that snuck up behind him in the dimly lit corridor; he never saw the hex coming, either; and before he passed out amidst the agonizing after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse, the last thing he heard was, "you'd better lose that Tournament if you know what's good for you, Diggory!"

The voice didn't sound the least bit familiar.

* * *

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Ron suddenly looked up, a very confused expression on his face. "Say, Hermione," he began, "did Harry just run past here, looking thoroughly snogged?"

"No. I didn't see a thing, Ronald."

She was very relieved when he just shrugged and went back to his essay.


	21. Mind Your Temper

"Mister Potter!" Snape's voice bellowed through the classroom, immediately sending all eyes in Harry's direction. "How thoughtful of you to finally join us. Five points from Gryffindor. Unless you have an acceptable excuse for your tardiness, other than your apparently unquenchable thirst for attention?"

"Um. No, Sir. I um... don't."

"So be it. Then if you would care to sit down, so the rest of us can continue? "

Harry quickly went to find himself a seat. Two were still available. He could either sit next to Hermione, or take the chair to Seamus' left.

Given the circumstances, it was an easy choice.

"Alright there, Harry?" the surprised Irishman whispered when Harry sat down.

"Fine." He made a point of ignoring the girl who looked like she was about to burst into tears.

A few minutes later, when Snape started to drone on about something called Rhitenclove, a note soared through the classroom and landed on Harry's open book.

_  
I'm dreadfully sorry. Please, let's talk about this?  
I love you.  
Hermione_

  
Unfortunately, the Potions Master had a tendency to be highly observant at the most inconvenient of times.

So it was in his usual way, rather reminiscent of a giant bat, that he swooped over to Harry's desk, picked up the piece of parchment and smirked triumphantly.

"Mister Potter, Miss Granger!" he declared with a predatory look. "Kindly keep this sort of pubescent nonsense outside of school hours in future, if you must indulge in it at all. Ten points from Gryffindor for passing love notes in class!"

Assorted students snickered, while Hermione blushed, Ron glared, Draco frowned and Harry hid his head in his hands. It was going to be a long day...

* * *

In the hospital wing, Cedric was slowly regaining consciousness.

He'd been found by Fleur Delacour, who, only a few moments earlier, had fended off a similar attack herself. Sadly, though, even if she'd successfully countered the hex, she hadn't been able to see her attacker's face.

"Tall person. Dark cloak."

It was the only description she'd been able to give, and in a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, that could apply to practically anyone.

Cedric's eyes opened. The first thing he saw was the headmaster sitting next to his bed.

"Nice to have you back with us, my boy." The old wizard smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Despite his smile, Dumbledore wasn't very happy with the present circumstances.

Two Triwizard champions targeted on one and the same day. This was entirely unexpected, and altogether, extremely worrying.

* * *

"Bloody hell, Draco!" Harry exclaimed, finding himself in a rather similar position as during Pansy's confrontation a few days ago. "What is it with you Slytherins constantly dragging people into empty classrooms?"

Draco had a mischievous look on his face. "Well, as it happens, I have a bone to pick with you, Potter! Granger confessing you her undying love? Honestly!"

"Hey, it wasn't a love note!" Harry protested. "She just..."

The other boy cut him short with a kiss. "I know that, you idiot! I'm not completely daft. According to a reliable source, you have much better taste."

Harry laughed. "Modest as ever. Then, why are we here?"

His question earned him a smug grin. "Let's just say that the idea of snogging you against a wall suddenly seemed rather appealing. Well, that and the fact that mother is expecting to see us tonight... Just so you know."

Harry swallowed hard. "She's expecting _both_ of us?"

"That's right. "

"Um, why?"

"Well, she can advise us on our spellwork, for starters." Draco smiled. "And she's also rather keen to be introduced to you, apparently."

The prospect of meeting Narcissa made Harry more than a little nervous. What if she hated him just as Lucius had? Well, she wouldn't, would she? She was on their side, right? But was he even ready for this? Everything seemed to be moving so fast lately.

"Um, is that a good thing?" he finally asked.

"She'll love you, I promise." Draco grinned. "Anyway, I'm off to lunch. See you later." He planted a light kiss on the other boy's lips and sauntered out of the classroom.

Harry sighed. Made to look like a complete plonker by Snape, an impending meet and greet with Narcissa Malfoy, and it was hardly noon. Yes, this was going to be a very long day, indeed.

On the upside, at least Draco was almost back to his old self again.

* * *

Mentally kicking herself, Hermione walked down the corridor leading to the Great Hall.

That note had been embarrassingly over-the-top. Not to mention that she usually wouldn’t do that sort of thing at all.

Passing notes in class was silly and juvenile and worst of all, it tended to lose you House points.

But, she had to admit to herself, the situation was getting rather desperate. So she'd had to do something.

Harry hadn't said a single word to her since their argument. Ron was being a real git about Viktor.

And as for the Bulgarian seeker himself...

She liked the boy, very much. He was kind and handsome. He treated her well. He was also considerably more intelligent than you'd give him credit for, at first glance.

But on the other hand...

He wasn't Ron or Harry. He didn't know her like they did. And it was becoming more and more apparent that she and Viktor didn't have very much in common, except for their mutual attraction. At the moment, they were fast running out of topics to talk about. Besides, there were quite a few matters she didn't think she could even discuss with her boyfriend if she wanted to.

The bottom line was that she missed her two best friends terribly. And she really missed the way the three of them used to be.

Hermione sighed.

Everything seemed to be so much simpler when they were kids, when there weren't any romantic entanglements to mess up their lives.

She had been looking forward to getting older, growing up. But now she was on her way there, she found it mostly unpleasant and even kind of painful.

She took a deep breath and entered the Great Hall.

Sitting herself down at the Gryffindor table, she couldn't help but notice the argument that was starting to unfold in front of her.

"And to think you went to such great lengths to deny it too, when that Skeeter bitch asked!" Ron snarled. "But all the while..."

Harry shook his head. "Again... There's absolutely nothing going on between Hermione and me."

"But you want there to be, right?" He gave the girl who was now sitting across from him a cold glare, and then continued in a lower voice, "You could at least have told me you fancied her, Harry!"

"I don't fancy her," he calmly stated for what was already the fifth time that day.

Ron snorted. "Yeah. Right."

At the next venomous look, Harry's patience finally snapped.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Ron!" He leapt up from his chair in exasperation and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I don't even like girls in that way anymore!"

The Great Hall instantly went silent.

Realizing what he'd just done, Harry was suddenly overcome with a massive urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. Could this day get any worse?

It didn't take long for that unspoken question to get its answer.

"Mister Potter!" an all too familiar voice boomed from wall to wall. "Thank you for sharing that no doubt enlightening tidbit with the rest of the school. However, please refrain from making such outbursts in future. Five points from Gryffindor for disrupting lunch, again."

His face scarlet, Harry sat back down.

Ron was now looking at him, eyes wide. "You're gay, mate?" he whispered, when the rest of the students had finally gone back to their normal business.

Harry just nodded. No point denying it now. They would all find out sooner or later anyway. He took a deep breath and waited for the next explosion.

"Oh." Ron seemed to ponder on this new information for a moment. "That's alright, then." He smiled and started to refill his plate.


	22. Out Of The Shadows

It stood to reason that Narcissa Malfoy would have her own room in the hospital wing. The lack of any potential spectators didn't make Harry any less nervous, however.

Reluctantly, he discarded his invisibility cloak. Then he grabbed Draco's hand and followed him inside.

Narcissa was sitting up in bed, reading what, much to the Gryffindor's surprise, appeared to be a Muggle novel.

She gave them a bright smile. She hugged her son, before turning her attention to the other boy, who was awkwardly shuffling his feet.

"You must be Harry Potter," she said softly. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Malfoy," he said, shaking the offered hand.

"Now, dear... Do call me Narcissa." She gave him another bright smile. "You have Lily's eyes, I see."

The mention of his mother made Harry feel a little more at ease. He smiled back.

"So," Narcissa spoke again, "how have you boys been? How's the training going?"

"Well," Draco began, hesitantly, "I'm afraid there have been a few complications, Mother."

While she listened to her son tell of Saturday night's events, the woman's expression shifted from startled to distressed to extremely angry.

"We considered hiding all this from you," Draco admitted, “but given the circumstances, we thought it might be best not to keep anything this important to ourselves. Even if it's rather painful. We truly had no choice, when Father... I'm very sorry."

She was now looking at him wide-eyed. Draco felt Harry's left hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He held his breath.

"_You're_ sorry?" Narcissa finally managed. "Sweetheart, my coming here obviously put you, both of you, in great danger! How could I have been so foolish? I assumed Hogwarts would be the safest place. I was certain that the Wards here were strong enough..." She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

"Come here." She tightly wrapped her arms around her son. "Merlin, I'm so relieved you're alright. And you too, Harry."

* * *

"Hiya Hermione," Ron greeted his friend as she walked into their Common Room. "Back so soon?"

"Yes. Viktor still had practice tonight."

"Oh. You haven't seen Harry anywhere, have you?"

"Not since dinner, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Say, Hermione...?"

"Yes?"

"You guys are okay, right? You and Harry, I mean?"

She frowned, not too happy with where this conversation was heading. "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Things seemed a little awkward, earlier. Um, you don't mind, do you?"

"Mind _what_?"

"That he fancies boys."

"Of course not." She smiled. "Don't be silly, Ronald!"

"You know..." He gave her a mischievous grin. "We haven't seen much of him lately. Do you reckon he's got a boyfriend? I mean, why else would he suddenly not like girls anymore, right? He was really into Cho a while back."

"Um, I don't know. And I don't think it's really any of our..."

"Maybe not," he cut her off, his grin still firmly in place. "But I'm going to find out, anyway!"

Hermione sighed. She had a feeling this wouldn't end well.

* * *

"I never knew your mother was such a talented witch," Harry remarked when he and Draco walked back to the Slytherin quarters.

"She's pretty brilliant, yeah," he agreed, “but she kept it under wraps when she met Father. He didn't approve of intelligent women, you see. Besides, sometimes, giving people the impression that you're dumb can be the smartest thing to do. They chronically underestimate you and then you can hit them when they've got their guard down."

Harry smiled. "Let me guess. Narcissa was in Slytherin too?"

"Of course," he answered proudly. "I can't think of anyone in my family who wasn't."

Harry laughed. "That figures."

They walked down another flight of stairs, glad to find the corridors completely deserted.

Well, almost…

"Hey," Harry suddenly whispered. "Draco, what's that over there?"

"No idea. Lumos!"

Stunned, both boys looked down at the unconscious form of Viktor Krum.

* * *

It was a sense of duty and not loyalty that sent Harry up to the Tower that evening.

Viktor was currently in the infirmary. He'd been hit by the Cruciatus Curse, according to Madame Pomfrey, and so someone had to let Hermione know.

Harry kept telling himself that he was only doing this for Krum's sake, because he was still far too angry at his bookworm friend to care about her feelings.

Not a single word was spoken on the way to the hospital wing, and Hermione was only slightly surprised when she found Draco in the waiting room.

"Granger," he said simply.

"Malfoy." She nervously sat down and started wringing her hands. "Any news yet?"

He shook his head. "Pomfrey should be back soon."

Harry took the chair to Draco's left and refused to even look at Hermione.

Draco didn't fully understand what was going on, but he wasn't especially fond of his present meat-in-the-sandwich predicament. "So," he eventually said, "I've obviously missed something."

"The Marauder's Map," Harry grumbled.

"Pardon me?"

"Miss Granger over there…" Harry almost sounded like Snape. "… decided to check my whereabouts by using an enchanted map."

"I see. So she found us out," Draco concluded. "How positively _Slytherin_ of you, Granger!"

"I fail to see the humor,” Harry said.

"Fair enough. But, on the other hand... I'm still alive and, to the best of my knowledge, am not missing any vital body parts, so I suppose it could be much worse. And I take it she hasn't told anyone, either?"

"Of course I haven't!" Hermione shouted. "Give me some credit! And I'd appreciate if both of you would stop talking about me like I'm not even in the room!"

Draco frowned. "Whatever, Granger. Remind me to never try to make amends between you and Potter again."

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything further, Madame Pomfrey returned.

"Mister Krum is regaining consciousness," the nurse said softly. "If you like, you can see him now, Miss Granger."

* * *

Back in Draco's room, Harry's mood still hadn't improved.

"Keep pacing back and forth like that and you'll burn holes in my carpet," the Slytherin remarked dryly. "Outrageously expensive carpet it is, too!"

"Not fucking funny, Draco!" Harry snarled. "The very nerve of that..."

"Hey." Draco got up from the sofa and went to where his Harry was standing. "Come here." He wrapped his arms around Harry and, after a few moments, the boy relaxed into the embrace. "I know she's upset you, but it's not worth getting so worked up about. She's a nosy little wench, absolutely, but she didn't do any actual harm, right?"

Harry let out a deep sigh. "I suppose."

"Look, I have an idea. Why don't I run you a hot bath? You'll feel better."

"A bath?" He gave a surprised look. "Now you sound like Cedric."

"Diggory?"

"Well, yeah." Harry grinned at the memory, suddenly feeling his anger fade. "Remember the Golden Egg? The one I took from the dragon during the first Task?"

Draco nodded.

"Cedric came up to me one day. He winked at me and told me to go take a bath in the prefects' bathroom with my Egg. I had no idea what he was on about. Turned out you had to hold the Egg under water to get your clue for the second Task. "

Draco shook his head and burst out laughing. "They send people to Azkaban for that, you know."

"For what?"

"Luring underage boys into pervy baths. Not legally sound at all."

Harry chuckled. "That wasn't what he was trying to do, you prat! I just didn't understand what he meant at first"

"Three cheers for the marvelous communication skills of the average Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, something like that."

Draco smiled. "So, Harry, do you want that bath or not?"

"Um, yeah. My pajamas are still up in the Tower, though. Remember this morning?"

"How could I forget?" Draco grinned. "Take one of my pairs. Second drawer. I have loads. You can always charm them if they don't fit right."

Harry grinned. "Alright. Thanks."

* * *

Draco was working on his Transfiguration paper when Harry reemerged from the bathroom.

"You know," the Gryffindor said, smiling broadly. "You're probably the only person I know who'd be vain enough to wear silk pajamas in the dungeons of a cold castle."

"Are you implying my room's cold?"

"No, not at all. It's just... a typically Malfoy thing to do."

"Is that so?" Draco gave his boyfriend a mischievous grin. "Well, Potter,” he taunted. “If you don't like to wear them, you can always take them off again."

Harry blushed. "That's not what I meant, Draco."

"Right. In that case... I'm off to change too, and then we finally can get some sleep, alright?"

Harry looked at the clock. It had already gone past midnight. "Yes, that sounds like a plan." He took off his glasses and crawled into bed, noting that the pajamas were in fact very soft and comfortable, and that he didn’t feel cold at all. He smiled and closed his eyes.

By the time Draco joined him, Harry was already sound asleep.

The Slytherin placed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "Sweet dreams."

At that, Harry stirred and moved closer, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist.

Draco sighed contentedly and soon joined him in slumber.


	23. Coming Around Again

A desperate scream was the first thing he heard when he awoke that morning. Next to him, Harry was groaning in his sleep, limbs trashing wildly.

_Nightmare,_ Draco decided, and he gently shook the other boy awake. When startled green eyes shot open, he didn't think he'd ever seen Harry look quite so terrified before.

"Hey, it's alright," he whispered soothingly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "It was just a very bad dream."

"Draco," the Gryffindor choked out, finally realizing where he was and with whom. "You're alright!"

"Of course, I am." He smiled, ruffled Harry's hair and tenderly kissed his cheek. "Everything's fine."

"No. I... I don't think it is." Harry was shaking.

"What's wrong?"

"Voldemort. I ... think he's back... and... he’s looking for you."

Draco felt a shiver run up and down his spine. "Why?" he asked with a trembling voice. "What makes you say that?"

"I've had this type of dreams before," Harry whispered. "They're often linked to things that have happened, or are going to happen. And it's always the people I love, who... Fuck, not again! I can't take any more of this... I can't lose you."

"Shush. Nothing's going to happen to me, Harry," Draco said, sounding considerably more confident than he actually was. "And if that bastard does decide to come for us, we'll be ready for him."

* * *

For the first time in quite a while, Harry joined his Housemates for breakfast that morning. Not that he had much of an appetite, but putting in an appearance had seemed like the smart thing to do.

The Great Hall was practically buzzing with rumours and assumptions about the Triwizard champions.

First the assault on Cedric, then Fleur's narrow escape, and of course Viktor found unconscious last night. That type of thing didn't half get people talking.

"You'd best be careful, mate," Ron said, tucking into his second helping of scrambled eggs, "or you might be next. I'm surprised Dumbledore hasn't called you to his office yet."

_Spare me,_ Harry thought. He didn't consider it wise to say that out loud too, though, not even to his best friend.

* * *

"Good morning, Narcissa," the Potions Master spoke as he stepped into the room.

"Severus." She gave him a dazzling smile. "What brings you here so early?"

"I believe," he began, taking a chair, "that you and I need to have a word about your son."

"Oh? What has Draco been up now?" she asked with a frown.

"It's not as much what he has done as... the company he chooses to keep."

"Ah." She smiled again. "I take it you're referring to Harry?"

"Indeed, I am," Snape said sternly. "Frankly, Narcissa, I can't say I approve of my godson being shacked up with the Potter boy."

She almost laughed. "_Shacked up?_ Really, Severus! That's blowing things well out of proportion, surely?"

"You are aware, I take it, that they're in his room, every night, sharing the same bed?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Draco told me, himself."

Snape swallowed hard. "And you have no objections to this, at all?"

"Draco assured me they're not rushing into things, _physically_, and I believe him."

The Potions Master rolled his eyes at that.

"Oh please, Severus!" Narcissa was laughing now. "They're just teenage boys!"

"Yes." He smirked. "They're teenage boys, which is precisely why it wouldn't surprise me, if all they ever do is..." He cleared his throat. "Apart from my personal feelings on the subject, this morning, I was also summoned by Albus, who had some unsettling news. We have reason to suspect that Potter may be in danger. And, in my opinion, if Draco continues to associate with him, he might be as well."

"Surely, you didn't tell the old fool...?"

"Of course not, Narcissa! "

"Thank you." She smiled. "Now, how is Harry in danger, exactly?"

"It seems there have been attempts on the sanity, if not the lives, of the three other Triwizard champions. Miss Delacour was able to escape, unharmed. Both Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum, however, are still receiving treatment for various after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse."

"Oh, I see. And Dumbledore believes that whoever's responsible for these attacks might be going after Harry soon, because he's also competing?"

Snape nodded. "Precisely. But that's not all. Has Draco been in touch with your husband lately?"

"My _estranged_ husband," she corrected him. "No, he hasn't. Nor have I."

"Dumbledore believes that Lucius might be the one behind the attacks."

"And why on earth would _Lucius_...?"

"To sabotage the Tournament, perhaps? To make a political statement of some sort? Albus wasn't entirely clear on that."

"I see."

"Regardless, Narcissa. I feel it would be wise to keep Draco away from the Potter spawn for the time being."

She thought about that for a moment. "Sorry, Severus," she finally said, "but I'm afraid, I have to disagree. If Harry is indeed in danger, then maybe Draco can help him? And vice versa, for that matter. In addition, they obviously care for each other very much and I'm not tearing them apart, not even for a week. It would be too upsetting for Draco."

"I see," he said grimly.

A tense silence filled the room.

"May I be blunt, Severus?" Narcissa asked after a few minutes.

He sighed. "By all means."

"Well, frankly, I don't, for the life of me, understand why Harry seems to disgust you so much. What has that poor boy ever done to deserve that?"

Snape glared maliciously. "Need I remind you of his father's appalling behaviour in school, Narcissa?"

"That was his father," she pointed out.

"Well, he's just the same."

"Like father, like son?"

"Precisely."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "I wonder what that makes Draco, then."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape exclaimed indignantly, suddenly realizing he'd walked straight into that one. "We both know perfectly well that Draco is nothing like Lucius."

She gave him a small smile. "I don't think Harry is anything like James, either. Perhaps, you should give the boy a chance, Severus. You might even like him, once you get to know him."

"I doubt it. But very well, if you see no reason to keep the boys apart…"

"I truly don't."

"So be it. I will put up extra Wards around the Slytherin quarters, however. We wouldn't want any unexpected visitors."

In light of recent events, Narcissa might have found the irony of that last statement morbidly amusing; as well as the image of Lucius' ghost floating around Hogwarts, firing off Unforgivables as some kind of political statement.

As it was, though, all she could do was mentally shake her head and sigh. Even when alive, her late husband wouldn't have bothered dirtying his hands with something that trivial

Dumbledore was obviously clutching at straws again. And if this was a typical example of The Light Side's reasoning, she thought it was nothing short of miraculous that they'd already managed to last this long.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	24. Dreamscape

With every passing day, the atmosphere at Hogwarts Castle grew more grim.

And while Cedric had made a full recovery and would be able to compete on Tuesday, the same didn’t apply to Viktor Krum.

The Bulgarian Seeker was said to be suffering from partial memory loss. In addition, the Curse, which hadn't been a Cruciatus after all, but something rather more complex, had stripped him of his magical powers.

Dumbledore was considering having the boy transferred to St. Mungo's for more specialized care.

Understandably, Igor Karakoff was enraged at the state of his star pupil. He went around threatening anyone he could think of, with any curse or legal action that came to mind. He also repeatedly vowed that neither he nor any of his students would ever set foot in Hogwarts again.

Hermione, on the other hand, took a more constructive approach to the problem at hand. Distressed though she was, she spent most of her free time at the library, trying to come up with information on the mysterious curse, as well as, hopefully, on a way to reverse it.

Whenever he had the time, Ron joined her there. He still wasn't particularly fond of Krum, but he couldn't just sit on the sidelines and watch his best friend worry herself sick, either.

Meanwhile, down in the Slytherin quarters, Professor Snape had put up more Wards.

At Narcissa's suggestion, he had also managed to convince the headmaster that a close eye should be kept on Harry Potter, preferably by someone with expert knowledge of the Dark Arts.

As such, the boy was now, supposedly, a guest in the Potions Master's private chambers. The fact that Harry had really moved into Draco's room was a secret only a select few people shared.

Of course, not all Slytherins were in favour of having a Gryffindor in their midst, and in particular _that_ Gryffindor, but none of them were brave or foolish enough to go against the decision of their Head of House, either. Not openly, anyway. So Harry's presence was mostly tolerated, except for the occasional snide remark from especially Theodore Nott.

Harry's nightmares were now under control, thanks to Snape's potion skills. And at night, Crabbe and Goyle took turns keeping watch outside Draco's door. Lucius wasn't a threat anymore, but something else certainly was, and it couldn't hurt to be extra careful.

On Friday afternoon, Narcissa was finally discharged from the infirmary. She was given her own living quarters in the dungeons, two doors down from her son's.

* * *

Restless sleep.  
Confusing dream.  
Tossing and turning.

_Eleven again. Madame Malkin's._

A raven-haired little boy. Big sparkling green eyes looking at him from behind dull glasses. A shy smile.

He seemed lost. Did he need help?

"The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter."

A handshake.

"Hogwarts too?"

_Lights. Candles. A ceremony._

"Harry Potter... Slytherin!"

A deadly silence reigned in the Great Hall. A frowning headmaster. The occupants of the Slytherin table breaking into cheers, loud enough for the entire castle to hear.

Green eyes met grey.

Two boys smiled.

_Flashes of silver and gold. Some woman swooning over a celebrity. A self-important prat with A dreadful fashion sense. Why are we even here?_

"Tell him to give the Weasley girl the diary, Draco. It will greatly help our Cause. She likes the Potter boy, does she not?"

"I will not use him, father!"

_Dragged outside. An alley. No witnesses._

"Foolish child! Forgetting your place, getting your most important priorities all wrong over some pathetic... _friendship_! Do you not realize that friendship is a mere illusion to trick people into believing they need other people? It weakens and destroys you. You are so young, so terribly naïve. But you will learn, my boy! Indeed, you will... I will _teach_ you... CRUCIO!"

_Piercing screams; nighttime in the Great Hall. Prefects on patrol. An impending threat. So much fear._

"Sirius Black. He killed my parents. Now he's coming for me."

"He can't have you, Harry. You're _mine_."

A first kiss by the lake; shy and awkward, but so incredibly wonderful.

More kisses in the dormitory.

Sneaking off to Hogsmeade; eating ice cream.

Holding hands in the corridor.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't the _queens_ of Slytherin!"

"Shut the fuck up, Weasel!"

_Fire. A name from a cup. Four champions, three tasks. How the devil did that happen?_

"It's my sad duty to let you know your mother has unexpectedly passed away, Draco. Your father awaits you at the Manor for the funeral."

"Of course, Sir."

So much rain, that day.

"I'm sorry I can't be there to see you, Harry. Make me proud."

"I'll have a pretty shiny cup for you when you return."

"You'd better."

A goodbye kiss.

_Thunder. More rain. Another ceremony. A numbing pain in his chest._

A memorial plaque.

"Harry James Potter - Slytherin House - Never To Be Forgotten."

_More anguished screams. His own._

Hands on his shoulders.

A voice in the distance, calling his name.

_The voice ... closer..._

... and closer...

"Draco! Draco! Wake up, already, damn it!"

The Slytherin bolted upright in bed. Through teary eyes, he saw Harry. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Shit, Draco!" the Gryffindor spoke, pulling his boyfriend into a tight embrace. "I thought you'd never wake up! I've been yelling at you for a good ten minutes now."

"You have?"

"Yeah. Heh, I'm surprised Vince hasn't come in yet to check." His voice was coated with relief. He rained gentle kisses over Draco's face. Then he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. It wasn't exactly pleasant."

"That much, I could tell," he said with a small smile.

"Right." Draco took a deep breath. "It was about us, mostly. We were friends from the moment we met, and we gradually became more."

"That doesn't sound too bad." Harry smiled. "We wasted a lot of time, you and I."

Draco unsuccessfully tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "You died during the Tournament, Harry," he finally whispered, "and I wasn't there, because... I was at my mother's funeral. I lost you both at the same time."

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. "Have you... had dreams like that before?"

"No. Not that vivid or morbidly realistic."

"Oh."

They were silent for a few moments.

Harry took Draco's hands in his. "You're going in with me on Tuesday, aren't you?"

"Yes. Whatever happens, I'll be there with you."

"Whatever happens," Harry repeated, a sinking feeling in his stomach.


	25. Dirty Little Secrets

Something had to be said about not needing to rush up to the Tower first thing in the morning. With a wide smile on his face, Harry walked out of the private bathroom and over to the four-poster where Draco was still deep in slumber.

The Gryffindor was very grateful for the large supply of Dreamless Sleep potion at hand. It might not change anything significant about their situation, but at least they were getting some rest, and it seemed to take the edge off the fear too. Either that or Draco was simply better at dealing with these things than he, himself was.

Harry sat down on the bed. He thought it was really a shame that he had to wake his boyfriend now, but Narcissa was expecting them in half an hour.

"Draco?" he whispered, gently stroking the boy’s hair.

"Hm?" Grey eyes opened.

"We're meeting your mother for breakfast, remember? Time to get up."

Draco looked mildly annoyed for a moment. Then he took a closer look at Harry. "Wow." He grinned mischievously. "Already up and dressed, and looking rather smart too, this morning. Even your hair seems moderately under control for a change. In fact..." He grabbed the other boy by the wrists. "I'm rather tempted to ravish you, Potter!"

A light blush coloured Harry's cheeks. He grinned back. "You wish, Malfoy!"

"Hm, I do actually." He leaned up for a small kiss, before he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

"Um, Draco?" Harry said when the boy had reached the door.

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Um, that ... _ravishing_ thing. We might do that tonight, or…?"

"Hm. I'll think about it." He gave a devious smile and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Harry shook his head and chuckled. "Prat!"

* * *

In some ways, Narcissa Malfoy reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley.

How she fussed over him, repeatedly asking if he'd had enough to eat; how she seemed worried about his pale complexion and the stress he was under; how she affectionately ruffled his hair at one point, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

Lucius may have been a cruel bastard, but Harry thought that his widow was one of the nicest and most caring people he'd ever met.

And somehow, she had now managed to convince Snape that the four of them would be going to Hogsmeade today.

The announcement came as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Well, the inclusion a very reluctant Potions Master aside.

"You two go and spoil yourselves." Narcissa smiled. "While Severus and I check out that bookstore across the road, alright?"

The boys nodded and went inside. They picked out a table.

"So," Draco said, glancing at the menu, "what would you like?"

"Um, not a clue." Harry looked around the posh establishment and couldn't help but feel somewhat out of place. "What are you having?"

"I usually eat blueberry pancakes here."

He smiled. "Sounds good to me."

"Right, then. Let's order." Draco beckoned the waiter.

* * *

"Times like this," Snape said, "I'm afraid I really question your sanity, Narcissa."

"Why is that, Severus?" She beamed him a smile.

"You do realize, do you not, that Potter may be in great danger right now?"

"From Lucius, you mean?"

He nodded, a dark expression on his face.

"Well," she began, leading him to a nearby bench rather than the bookstore, "I suggest we sit down for a while. There's something I simply _must_ tell you about my husband. "

* * *

"Snape's quite smitten, isn't he?" Draco grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

Harry made a face. "Please! Don’t. Not while I'm eating."

The Slytherin laughed. "This is nice, though." He laid his hand, the one that wasn't currently holding a fork, on Harry's arm.

Harry took it in his free hand and gently squeezed. "Yes, it is. And it's good to get away for a while too."

They continued the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

* * *

After all those years, the once-stately mansion had been reduced to a derelict dump. Almost uninhabitable now, save for two rooms that had been magically restored, prior to the owner's return.

It was in one of them, a study, that the secret meeting was being held, and the lord of the manor was not in the least impressed.

"How do you mean, _missing_?" the man bellowed. "How can someone like Lucius Malfoy simply disappear?"

"I don't know, My Lord," came a timid response.

He sneered. "No, you never _do_ know anything, do you, Pettigrew? Sometimes, I wonder why I keep you around at all, you bothersome rodent!" He turned to one of the other attendees. "So, Nott, can you tell me anything even remotely of use?"

"Well, My Lord," the Death Eater spoke, "my son has informed me that Narcissa has been given sanctuary at Hogwarts. And Severus is keeping a close eye on the Potter boy."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "_Is_ he now? " He paced across the room. "So," he finally spoke, "as of today, you, Nott, will be in charge of the tasks that were previously assigned to Malfoy.'"

"Thank you, Sir!" The man beamed with obvious pride.

Then, someone else spoke up. "Um, Sir, what about...?"

Voldemort looked him squarely in the eyes. "Yes, Crabbe? Out with it."

"Tuesday's plans, Sir?"

"Everything," came the response, "will go ahead precisely as scheduled. Is that clear?"

Four heads nodded.

"Good. You are dismissed."

Alone again, Voldemort allowed himself a deep sigh.

His resurrection four months ago had gone surprisingly well. He had also been rather impressed when, courtesy of Malfoy's potion skills, he had found himself back to his normal human appearance. He looked about twenty now, which was an added bonus. Had this whole experiment turned him into some deformed creature, he would have been extremely displeased.

Malfoy's absence, however, worried him greatly. The other members of his Inner Circle were useful enough, as far as disposable minions went, but Lucius, on the other hand, possessed plenty of intellect and cunning; not to mention, a vast amount of discretion and loyalty.

The mystery regarding the man's whereabouts was most disconcerting, indeed.

* * *

Narcissa didn't believe in doing things by halves. So when she decided that the boys were to be spoiled, she also took them on a shopping spree, and they stopped by a bakery before finally returning to the castle.

Professor Snape, meanwhile, spent the rest of the day being a far cry from his usual snide self.

He couldn't help but wonder about the implications of Lucius' death for the future of the Dark Side. He also had to ask himself if Draco and Potter had any idea just how much danger they'd be in, if this ever reached the wrong ears.

And then, of course, there was the final and most important question of all. If Lucius wasn't behind the attacks on the Triwizard champions, then who _was_?

The Potions Master had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

Hermione put her head in her hands and sighed. She'd been reading the same page over and over again for the past ten minutes, but none of the words seemed to find their way to her brain.

"Alright there, Granger?"

She looked up to see Pansy Parkinson standing next to her, holding a large Herbology book. "Yes," she responded, "sort of..." Another sigh. "Well, actually... No, not really."

"Hm," Pansy said, taking the seat next to Hermione, "What's the matter? Still no change with Krum?"

She shook her head and gave a sad smile. "I'm starting to think it's hopeless... I mean, Ron's helping and we're all trying and... the healers are doing the best they can too, obviously, and ... then, on top of that... there's..." She fought back tears. "…the unresolved thing with Harry... He keeps ignoring me and..."

"Potter's still not talking to you?" Pansy asked, genuinely surprised. "Stubborn bastard. Would you like me to have a word with him tomorrow? I can't guarantee or promise that it'll do any good, but..."

"Would you? Really?" Hermione blurted out.

"Sure," Pansy said. "The boy's behaving like a total prat yet again. Someone has to knock some sense into him. And I've had plenty of practice in that department, believe me, which would probably make me the most qualified person for the job."

"With Mal- Draco?"

"Oh, yes." She chuckled. "His Fair-haired Highness has his moments."

Despite her current sadness and exhaustion, Hermione had to grin at that. "Oh, I can imagine."

* * *

"I don't know about you," Draco said, plopping himself down on his bed, "but I really don't feel like dinner tonight."

"Me, neither." Harry smiled and joined his boyfriend. "I think I've eaten enough today to last me the rest of the week. And I’m pretty tired from being dragged from shop to shop as well. You know, your mother bought me so many clothes. I hope I'll actually get to wear them all before I outgrow them."

This earned him a chuckle. "Planning on growing some more, are we?"

"Well, I'm barely fifteen," he pointed out. "I should still get a little taller, right?"

"Possibly." Draco smirked. "Hm, I didn't know you had issues with your height, Potter. Shame. Just think of all the taunting I could have done..."

Harry shook his head. "You are so full of it!"

"Really? Incidentally... " He propped himself up on one elbow, facing Harry. "I distinctly recall something you said this morning about wanting to be... hmmm... _ravished_, was it?"

Harry felt his cheeks go red again. "Um, yeah. I said that, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh." He grinned broadly. "So what did you have in mind?"

"Um..."

Draco laughed and leaned down for a kiss. "You're really too bloody cute for your own good, you know."

* * *

An elegantly scripted envelope landed on the Slytherin table. Pale, thin hands quickly tore it open.

_It's my great pleasure to inform you I have received promotion in rank. Our mutual acquaintance has now bestowed a task upon me where you can be of great assistance._

Tomorrow at dusk, someone will need to be given entrance to the castle via the usual route.

I trust you will take care of this matter. It would mean a great deal to both the Cause and myself.

Theodore Nott carefully pocketed the piece of parchment, determined to make his father proud.

  



	26. The Enemy Inside The Gates

Fleur Delacour exited the library, carrying a large pile of books.

A few days ago, Cedric Diggory had tipped her off about the enchanted maze, so she now considered undertaking research on magical gardens to be her highest priority.

To her astonishment, the Hufflepuff and herself had struck up something of a friendship during the past week. But then again, she reasoned, maybe this wasn't so surprising, after all. Sharing a common threat tended to unify people.

Besides, in light of recent events, winning the Triwizard Tournament had suddenly become laughably insignificant, compared to plain surviving it.

She wondered why the headmaster didn't just put a stop to this nonsense and cancel the damned event immediately. Surely, the magical repercussions, if any, couldn't possibly outweigh the danger they were all in now?

Unless, of course, the students were just expandable pawns, easily sacrificed for some Greater Good.

Fleur refused to think of herself as anything less than precious, so this was one option that didn't exactly leave her jumping for joy.

With her arms full of books and her mind on other matters, she didn't pay much attention to her surroundings. Which was probably why she suddenly found herself bumping into someone, all her reading material plummeting down to the floor.

"Oh. Je suis très désolée... So sorry," she stammered.

"That's quite alright, Mademoiselle." The young man standing in front of her smiled. "I should have watched where I was going, myself. Here, let me help you with those." He knelt down to retrieve the fallen books.

"Merci."

"No problem at all. Where were you heading?"

"Ze guest Ving."

"Yes, of course. Well, I'll happily accompany you, if you like. This seems an awful lot to carry all by yourself."

"Zank you, but I fink it is not good idea to be valking around vith strange men, non?"

"Ah, I see your point." He gave her another wide smile. "Do forgive my ghastly lack of manners. My name is Tom. You are... the Beauxbatons Champion, I believe?"

"Oui. Fleur," she stated, not really sure why they were omitting their surnames. "You are a Zly- vrom ze serpent house?" she asked, gesturing towards the patch on his robes.

"Slytherin. Indeed. Shall we, Mademoiselle?"

* * *

"Honestly!" Draco exclaimed, shaking his head at the papers on his desk. "I knew Potions wasn't your best subject, Potter, but this... Merlin's hat, it's so abysmal, it's verging on being ridiculous!"

"Hey,” Harry protested. "It's not _that_ bad!"

"Oh, but it is." Draco chuckled. "Your cough remedy has two ingredients mixed up, so that whoever took it would either start projectile vomiting or instantly grow a beard - Hm, sounds like something the Weasley twins might want to mess around with - and as for that Wolfsbane Potion essay... You do realize that _Ag_ is the symbol for the element silver, don't you? Even I know that, and I never took a Muggle Studies class in my life!"

"That's short for _Aconitum gigas_, actually."

"If you say so. Nonetheless, abbreviated like that..." He grinned. "Snape would probably flunk you faster than you could say, _Oops, I killed Professor Lupin_. I'll make a few corrections, shall I?"

"Fine," Harry grumbled.

There was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Draco called.

"Hello, boys!" Pansy smiled, sauntering into the room. Then she turned to Harry. "A word, Potter?"

* * *

Fleur was slightly surprised that Tom gave her a kiss on the cheek when they said goodbye, and at the same time, she was also distracted enough not to notice how a small needle very briefly pricked her right arm.

When she walked back into her temporary quarters, she suddenly felt very faint.

A classmate rushed forward to catch her just in time, before she hit the floor.

* * *

"Hermione?"

She looked up from her book, and then she smiled, pleasantly surprised to see Harry standing in front of her.

"Alright if I join you?" he asked tentatively. "By the way, Vince is here as well."

"Vince?" she asked. Her confusion disappeared when she saw Crabbe briefly lift the invisibility cloak he was wearing.

"Yes," she said quickly. "Of course. Um, hello Vincent."

The boys sat down. "Draco didn't want me to come up here all by myself," Harry explained.

Hermione nodded. "Very wise. We're all terribly worried for you, Harry."

"Um. So," he began, making a mental note of the _very wise_ that would undoubtedly amuse a certain Slytherin later, "I guess you and I should have a talk, yeah?"

"Yes, we should," she said. "Look, Harry. Again, you know, I truly regret what I did. I was just concerned, and..."

"I know," he cut her off. "And I'm still not at all happy about it, to be honest, and I suppose it'll take some time for... things to get back to the way they were before. But with all the crap going on at the moment... the attacks, the Tournament... It seems a little childish to keep up some grudge over something this... small... in comparison. Besides..." He was smiling now. "It's certainly daft to suddenly love one of your enemies but shun your best friend."

"Yes, I suppose it is." She smiled back. "So we’re… okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We are."

Fighting back happy tears, she grabbed his hands and gave them a light squeeze. "Thank you, Harry."

* * *

In an abandoned room, close to the Ravenclaw section of the castle, Voldemort mentally congratulated himself on a job well done.

Much as he loathed Muggles, he could still give them credit that at least some of their inventions were useful; like small syringes, for instance.

With any luck, it would take the Hogwarts medical staff quite a while to figure out what exactly had happened to the French girl. And by the time they'd solved that little puzzle, they would still need weeks to brew an effective antidote.

So now it was just Diggory versus Potter. The Hufflepuff, he was certain, was no match at all for the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

Voldemort rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. Everything was finally going according to plan.


	27. Countdown

Twenty-eight hours to go.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress the agonizing anxiety and dread.

Shivering, Harry snuggled closer to a sleeping Draco. He closed his eyes again, but failed to find any more rest. Too many thoughts were running through his head, and none of them was pleasant.

What if he died tomorrow?

It would be sadly ironic. Now that he finally had something to live for; a morsel of happiness after so many years of dutifully following other people's plans and instructions; after feeling misunderstood, unappreciated and dreadfully lonely for so long, notwithstanding his friends' good intentions and best efforts to change that.

What if this was where it all ended? Surely, life couldn't be that cruel, could it?

_Well, when has life ever been kind to you, anyway, Harry?_

Then, the other possibility...

What if he lost Draco tomorrow?

Just thinking about it made him feel sick.

Technically, they hadn't been together for that long yet. But on the other hand, they had been a constant in each other's lives pretty much from the moment they'd met. When they'd finally buried the hatchet and seen the other for what they truly were, it had suddenly made sense, like the last missing piece from a puzzle. They belonged together.

Add to that everything that happened in the past weeks... He simply couldn't imagine a life without Draco by his side anymore.

Harry didn't even realize he was crying until he heard a gentle voice whisper, "Shhhh,” and he felt soft lips on his cheeks, and warm hands tracing circles on his back.

He looked up, into the concerned face of his boyfriend.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"I think my Gryffindor courage has officially left the building," he replied in a small voice.

"Third Task?" Draco asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah. I just have this feeling, almost like a premonition, that something really bad is going to happen."

Draco sighed. "You're not the only one. It's not very Slytherin to admit, but I'm dead scared for all of us; you, mother, my friends, and the world in general if that maniac returns. At least we're prepared, right? As ready as we'll ever be."

Harry gave a small nod.

Draco didn't know what else to add, so he started kissing Harry again; small, gentle kisses all over his face. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered. "I love you."

Harry moved even closer. "I love you too."

* * *

Hesitantly, Theodore Nott entered the room. "You wanted to see me, My Lord?"

"Indeed," Voldemort spoke. "Never let it be said that I don't show my loyal followers the gratitude they deserve. Please, sit down."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You have done a most excellent job here, young Nott. Efficiently dealing with Krum, providing me with both a hiding place and suitable attire at such short notice, helping me gain access to a supposedly impregnable building. You have done your father proud."

"Thank you, Sir."

"It is, of course, most regrettable that I'm presently unable to visit the Slytherin quarters. An old Ravenclaw room wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Yes, Sir. I'm terribly sorry," Theodore quickly interjected. "I'm afraid Professor Snape has put up new Wards."

"Indeed." Voldemort pondered on that for a moment. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind taking care of another small matter for me, would you?"

"I'd be most honoured to, Sir."

"Right, then. This concerns Draco Malfoy."

"I'm all ears, Sir."

And in truth, he was. He'd never been terribly fond of his blonde housemate, who seemed to obtain everything he wanted at a snap of his fingers; including his own quarters, private tutoring from Snape and the fastest broom daddy's money could buy. Luring that spoiled brat into whatever trap the Dark Lord had set for him, would be a pleasure, indeed.

"Excellent!" Voldemort spoke. "You see, Nott, it would seem that Draco's father has rather inconveniently disappeared on us. Of course, one doesn't want to throw around words like _defected_ or _fled_. One wouldn't carelessly utter either of those, particularly when referring to Lucius Malfoy. However, these are complex, dangerous times we live in. And I'd much prefer an unpleasant certainty over a potentially fatal delusion."

The boy just nodded.

"So your task," the Dark Lord went on, "would be to keep a close eye on young Draco. Observe whom he talks to, how much correspondence he receives, if he's in touch with his father at all. It would be helpful if we knew whether he's still loyal to Our Cause too. As such, you might want to consider _befriending_ him."

This wasn't exactly what Theodore had hoped to hear, but he responded eagerly anyway. How could he refuse?

"I shan't let you down, Sir!"

"Excellent. "

* * *

"I doubt I'll be able to concentrate on classes today." Harry sighed, stuffing his books in his bag.

"Same here," Draco admitted. "Maybe we could try asking Snape for a sick note...?"

"Yeah. Right." He gave a small grin. "That'll work."

"Come on, Potter..." He reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. "Let's get this over with."

Outside the door, they were met by Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, as well as Neville; that other Gryffindor who was spending a lot more time down in the dungeons than up in the Tower these days.

When the six of them climbed the stairs leading to the main corridor, they didn't notice how one of the Slytherins watched them intently, and then followed at an inconspicuous distance.


	28. Desperate Times And Measures

That morning wasn't the first time Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall accompanied by one Gryffindor and four Slytherins. In fact, this had become a fairly common sight ever since he'd supposedly been staying with professor Snape for his own safety.

Nevertheless, a few eyebrows were raised as the group made their entrance, mainly among the Gryffindors.

Draco couldn't help but smirk smugly. _Jealous_, were they, he wondered? Afraid that their precious Golden Boy might end up corrupted, perhaps? _Wankers._

Neville quickly took his usual seat next to Pansy, while Harry joined his Housemates at the other table.

"Hiya, mate," Ron said, grabbing a muffin. "Has that Slytherin lot been behaving themselves?"

"Yeah. No problems at all." He poured himself some tea.

"Good. You know, I just can't get my head around it. You arriving with Team Ferret like it's the most natural thing in the world. You down in the dungeons, under the protection of Snape, of all people. The Tower suddenly not safe enough for you. Bloody desperate times we live in."

Harry forced a smile.

Very soon, he'd have to tell Ron about Draco, explain what was really happing. His best friend deserved to know the truth. Harry knew he wouldn't be pleased, to put it mildly, but it'd be even worse if he found out from someone else, or figured it out on his own, like Hermione had.

_Tomorrow,_ Harry promised himself, _I'll tell Ron tomorrow, when the Triwizard nonsense is finally over and done with. Provided I don’t- Well, let's take it one problem at a time. _

* * *

"Good morning, Malfoy!"

Draco turned his head around, to find Theodore standing behind his chair. "Nott," he acknowledged with a small nod. “What the devil do _you_ want?"

The other boy smiled - a little too eagerly, in Draco's opinion. "Nothing. I'm just here to let you know there will be a test in Transfiguration later on. A very important one. So you might want to re-read last week's notes."

Draco frowned. "Alright. Thank you."

"No problem. Us Slytherins have to stick together, don't we?" He didn't bother to wait for a response and strode back out of the Great Hall.

"Wow." Neville was the first to speak. "That wasn't half weird!"

"Yes, wasn’t it?" Pansy said. "Do you reckon he's up to something?"

"I'd bet on it," Vincent supplied.

"Right," Draco began and went on to ask, in a low voice, so only his four friends could hear, "Who else can we trust at this table?"

"Millicent? Zabini? Daphne, perhaps?" Pansy suggested. "Why?"

"Hm." Draco thought out loud. "There's no way Bulstrode would be able to go anywhere unnoticed. Zabini? Maybe."

He was silent for quite some time.

"Oh, sod it!" he finally said. "I'm already regretting this, but... Greg, try to get Weasley's attention, would you?"

Goyle looked confused. "Um, which Weasley?"

"Ronald."

"On it!"

Perhaps, Draco should have been more specific, in regards to the _how_. After all, he knew full well what Crabbe and Goyle's usual approach to a problem was. Charge right in, no holds barred, with all the subtlety of a scorned Hippogriff on a murderous mission.

As it was, though, Draco could only watch, eyes wide, as a muffin suddenly soared across the room and hit Ronald Weasley squarely in the jaw.

"Twenty points to Slytherin," Pansy muttered to herself.

"Ouch. What the fuck!" Ron leapt up from his chair. "Malfoy, you immature little shit, I know you did this!"

"Ron, please," Hermione began, trying to calm her friend down. "You didn't actually see…"

It was no use. The enraged Gryffindor threw down his napkin and stormed over to the Slytherin table.

Harry gave Draco a questioning look. Then, not knowing what else to do, he stood up and followed his friend. Hermione was right behind him.

"Just what the bloody hell was that in aid of? And don't even bother denying it." Ron seethed, now standing in front of Draco.

"Weasley," the latter spoke, his voice exceptionally calm and even, "I must apologize for rudely interrupting your breakfast, but I'm afraid we have an important matter to discuss. If you would care to sit down... Vince, make some room, would you?"

"What?" Ron was temporarily gobsmacked. Had Malfoy just apologized to him? Was the Slytherin ringleader being _polite_? Were aerial pigs the latest craze at Hogwarts?

A few students eyed the scene with great interest. However, when they saw Harry, Hermione and eventually also Ron calmly take a seat, they quickly went back to their usual business. It didn't look like there would be a killing here today, after all.

"So," Ron at last said, sufficiently recovered from his initial shock. "What is it, Malfoy, that's important enough for you to start throwing food around the room like a four-year-old?"

"Technically." He smirked. "That was Goyle. However, it seems we have ourselves a bit of a problem. One of my Housemates appears to be acting... shall we say... shifty."

Ron sneered. "What are you, Malfoy; new here? And just the one?"

"This is not the time to try and be funny," Draco snarled back. "If my gut feeling's right, Potter may be in extreme danger. _Again._ You're his friend, so I assumed you'd want to know. Of course, if you couldn't give a toss either way, fair enough, then I'll just ask someone else, shall I?" He turned to Hermione. "How about you, Granger?"

“Draco,” Harry quickly interjected. “What are talking about? What’s going on?"

At that, Ron's eyes widened. _’Draco’? What the hell?!_

He decided to file that away and think about it some more later.

"Well," Draco began, “Theodore Nott came here a little while ago, to tip me off about a Transfiguration test we're supposedly getting today. In all my years at Hogwarts, Nott hasn't exactly been... Well, let's just say, that was very uncharacteristic behaviour for him. And seeing it's the third Task tomorrow and a lot of really messed up crap has already happened... At the moment, I can't dismiss anything I find dodgy as being mere coincidence. My guess would be that Nott's planning something."

"Planning something," Hermione parroted. "But what?"

"Getting close to Potter through us, maybe, seeing how we were fortunate enough to get stuck with him? Your guess is as good as mine, Granger. "

"Alright," she spoke again. “But how does Ron fit into all this exactly?"

"Well, to put it simply, someone has to keep an eye on Nott. Someone we can trust."

Ron couldn't help but laugh. "You think I'm trustworthy, Malfoy? You need my help, do you? Oh, how the worm has turned. Wait 'till my father hears about this! Could I have it in writing as well, though? Wouldn't want people thinking I'd lost my marbles if I told them."

"Frankly, Weasley," Draco spoke through gritted teeth, struggling hard to stay calm for Harry's sake, “I still wouldn't trust you as far as I could kick your sorry self across the Quidditch field. But this doesn’t concern me, does it? This is about Potter, and I’m quite confident that you wouldn't let anyone harm him. So yes, ironic as it is and incredible though it may seem, in this particular case, you do appear to be the best person to ask."

"He's right, Ronald," Hermione said softly.

An uncomfortable silence set in.

"Alright," Ron finally said. "What exactly did you have in mind, Malfoy?"

* * *

There still wasn't any change in Fleur's condition.

The girl seemed fine, physically, but for reasons the healers hadn't yet figured out, she was still unable to wake up.

When Cedric went to visit, he overheard the nurses mention St.Mungo's a few times, and consequently, he left the hospital wing in a glum mood.

His classes didn't start until ten that morning, so he decided to get some revision in. Or at least try. His concentration hadn't exactly been brilliant lately.

Back in the Hufflepuff Common Room, he opened his Potions book.

A note fell out.

  
_I suggest you don't attempt to gain "Eternal Glory" tomorrow, lest you find never ending damnation instead.  
A concerned friend._

  
Cedric shuddered despite himself.

Then he took a deep breath.

He needed to talk to Harry Potter. As soon as possible.


	29. Ron's Very Bad Day

From his well-secluded spot in the library, Ron Weasley decided that Theodore Nott's behaviour really was pretty odd.

The tall Slytherin had spent his whole lunch break by himself; not talking to a soul. And now, during their free study period, he seemed to be paying a lot more attention to the occupants of a nearby table than to the book he pretended to be reading.

Ron wondered for which reason Nott would be so interested in Malfoy and his little gang, to begin with.

Was there trouble in paradise? Were the Slytherins turning against each other for a change? Well, whatever it was, as long as they kept Harry out of it, Ron wasn't terribly inclined to give a toss.

Nott stood up, left the book on the table for the librarian to put back, and headed straight for the door.

Ron was about to follow suit, but decided against it when someone else came in.

When Ron saw who it was, he frowned. What was Harry doing here? And why was he alone? Wasn't Hermione supposed to be keeping an eye on him this afternoon?

Mildly intrigued, Ron remained seated, while his best friend walked over to Neville and the group of Slytherins. They exchanged a few words, and Pansy handed over some papers.

Harry was on the verge of leaving again, the documents neatly tucked in his bag, when Ron saw a troubled look cloud the boy's face. It was an expression he knew only too well; one of complete trepidation.

Normally, his best friend would leave the room right away, to collect himself, if his face betrayed anything like grief or fear; especially in the company of strangers or people who might mock him.

This time, however, he wasn't going anywhere.

Ron's eyes widened when Harry turned towards the table again and said something to Malfoy. Then, to Ron's horror, the prize ferret took Harry's hand in his and caressed it with his thumb. Harry smiled and a few minutes later, exited the library with a goofy grin on his face.

None of the other people at the table seemed to have noticed the exchange. Or they had, but they hadn't found it particularly noteworthy.

Like it happened all the time.

Ron gulped hard.

That had been just about the last thing he'd expected to see today, or indeed, ever. Something he was neither ready nor willing to define at this point was apparently going on between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Ron was suddenly very glad he was sitting down.

* * *

Today's classes had crept by at an obnoxiously slow pace. Harry hadn't been able to concentrate either. All his thoughts had been dwelling on tomorrow.

Back in Draco's room, he finally felt like he could breathe again. He made himself comfortable on the sofa, resting his head against his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Thank Merlin." Draco sighed. "I thought this bloody day would never end."

"Yeah. Same here."

"Do you feel like going up to dinner?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I doubt I'd be able to keep anything down. I spent the entire night before the first Task in the bathroom too; and this is much worse than a dragon."

"Hey." Draco gently pulled the other boy closer and kissed his forehead. "You won't have to face it alone this time."

This earned him a small smile. "I know."

"I've been thinking... We could ask Snape to brew you a potion, if you like; to help take the edge off those nerves. I'm sure he'd gladly help. Well, alright." He grinned. "Maybe _gladly_ is stretching it a bit, but he'd definitely help, if only to stay on Mother's good side."

Harry considered this for a moment. "Yeah, sounds good.”

"Right. I'll go see him in a few, then. First, though... I'm going to spend some time with you." He ran a hand through Harry's hair. "This will no doubt sound really sappy, but I missed you today. It feels... increasingly outlandish, not to be able to sit with you in class, to have to keep pretending we're nothing to each other."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It does. Do you... do you think that'll change any time soon, Draco?"

"I hope so," came the honest response. “As soon as it's safe."

"What are you still afraid of, exactly?" Harry asked.

Draco smirked. "Apart from the entire school dropping dead from shock, you mean? Hey! Ouch! What the hell? I can't believe you actually _pinched_ me, Potter!"

Harry chuckled. "You deserved it, you prat! I was being serious!"

"Alright, then." He took a deep breath. "Some of the Slytherins wouldn't like it, for starters."

"Nott?"

"Yes, him, definitely, and a few others as well. They'd be Owling their parents the news straight away, which could end up very dangerous for my mother, especially with Lucius out of the picture. Surely, Voldemort must have picked up on that little detail by now. And I have a feeling that the Dark Lord's plans for me haven't changed either, Harry. He'll be expecting me to follow in my father's footsteps, eventually. And since Mother and I haven't officially defected yet..."

Harry nodded. "Go on. "

"Then there's the matter of Dumbledore. The old coot would be on our case constantly, trying to coerce you into manipulating me, making dozens of empty promises about the future and how he can guarantee Mother and me protection if only we'd join his side... Protection, my foot! Lucius just barged in that night. If he were physically able and really wanted to, I'll bet Voldemort could probably come wandering in, as well."

Harry flinched. "I hope not."

"Anyway, my point," Draco went on, intentionally keeping his voice soft, "is that some people wouldn't be very happy to suddenly see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy getting along. From their point of view, the fact that we're together is a slap in the face of everything we were supposed to be. Then, of course, certain _other_ people would certainly be over the moon about this development and try to use it to their own advantage. And so we'd get hell from both sides."

Harry sighed. He snuggled closer to Draco. "You're probably right," he whispered.

"Yeah. Although, in this case, I truly wish I wasn't."

The room was quiet again. Until a sudden knock at the door interrupted the boys' thoughts.

Reluctantly, Harry moved to the other side of the sofa, and Draco called out, "Yes? Come in."

It was Pansy. "Sorry to interrupt, you two, but Cedric Diggory is here to talk to Potter."

Mildly amused, Draco raised his eyebrows. A Hufflepuff bold enough to venture into Slytherin territory and still alive to tell the tale as well? The times were definitely changing.

"Alright, Pansy," Harry said.

"Right, then." The girl smiled and turned to the person still standing in the corridor. "You can go in, Diggory!"

* * *

Harry was highly unnerved when Cedric showed them the note. He didn't know what to make of it, either. Not until Draco eventually came up with a possible explanation.

"It looks to me like they want you to win that Tournament, Harry," he said.

"And then what?" He felt like his heart might jump out of his chest any second. "They'll try to kill me, won't they? Fuck. I really wish I knew what we're up against, or if we're properly prepared, or..."

"Um, guys?" Cedric interjected. "I'm afraid I really didn't get any of that. I don't see how _you're_ suddenly involved, either, Malfoy. No offense."

"None taken, Diggory, I'm sure." Draco smirked. Then he looked at Harry. "Do you think we should tell him about tomorrow's plan?"

"Um..." Harry didn't seem too sure. "Can he keep a secret?"

"I most certainly can!" an affronted Cedric said.

"Alright." Harry took a deep breath, "I guess you'd better tell him then, Draco. Besides, three is better than two; safety in numbers and all that."

Draco frowned. He wasn’t convinced that this was such a good idea. In his opinion, three was in fact considerably worse than two, if all the third did was blunder his way around and fuck things up for everyone in the process. But on the other hand, he reasoned, Diggory had already completed the first two Tasks without any trouble, so maybe the boy deserved a little credit.

"Well, Diggory," Draco finally said, "it's like this..."

* * *

Staring at the wall, Ron Weasley decided that this had been a really stupid idea.

He'd expected to find a portrait hole, with a portrait he could actually talk to, negotiate with, but alas... This wall wasn't particularly communicative and it definitely wasn't budging, either.

He turned around to head back to the Tower, and almost bumped into someone. It was a Slytherin he recognized from Potions. Zambin? Zaboni? Something that sounded like that anyway.

"Lost your way, Weasley?" the boy asked, with a hint of amusement but not a trace of malice in his voice.

Ron saw an opportunity and took it. "Not quite," he replied, in what he hoped was a friendly tone. "I wanted to talk to Harry. It's rather important. But I can't seem to get in."

"Ah, yes." He grinned. "Kind of tricky, that. You'd best follow me, then. "

Thanking his lucky stars to have found a helpful Slytherin (he hadn't been aware their kind even existed), Ron followed the boy into the Common Room.

"Pansy!" Blaise called her over. "A visitor for Potter."

"Weasley." She smirked. "This way, please."

Ron had expected to be led to Snape's quarters. Instead, the room he entered about five minutes later, very obviously belonged to Draco Malfoy.

But that wasn't the half of it. There was also plenty of stuff scattered around that, equally obviously, was the property of Harry Potter; including that expensive broom in the corner.

Slowly, it dawned on Ron. Harry hadn't been living with Snape, at all. He'd been here, shacked up with Malfoy, the whole time.

_Bloody hell!_

"Weasley." He suddenly heard a familiar drawl. "How may we help you this evening?"

Still completely gobsmacked, Ron turned around in the direction of the voice.

Malfoy was seated on a large, green sofa, his trademark smirk firmly in place. Next to him was Harry, who seemed reluctant to make eye contact. And in one of the other chairs, Ron spotted Cedric Diggory. The Hufflepuff looked ghostly pale.

_I know exactly how he feels,_ Ron thought. He took a deep, bracing breath, and said, "It's about this morning's conversation."

He wasn't too sure what he was allowed to reveal with Cedric also in the room. What was he even doing here anyway? If it weren't for the overwhelming shock, Ron would definitely be losing his temper right about now. He was supposed to be Harry's best friend, for crying out loud!

"Nott?" Harry asked, rather nervously.

"Yeah."

"Um, what did you find out?"

"Well, Harry, he spent most of today observing Malfoy and his group. So I assume you're safe. Someone else present might want to watch their back, though."

"Um, alright. Thanks."

A loaded silence set in, its awkwardness increasing with every passing second.

"Right." Ron cleared his throat. "I guess I'd best get back to the Tower, then. Hermione will be wondering where I am and..."

"Ron," Harry cut in, "you don't have to... "

There was another knock at the door.

"Yes?" Draco shouted, no longer bothering to hide his irritation at these repeated interruptions.

_So much for having private quarters, damn it!_

Narcissa swept in. "How's everyone doing?" she asked, smiling brightly. "Oh, I didn't know you had friends over, Draco!"

"I wouldn't exactly call these people..." the Slytherin began.

But his mother wasn't listening. She was already shaking Cedric's hand and referring to him as _that handsome Hufflepuff Champion_. Then she turned her attention to Ron. "Oh, such lovely red hair! You’re one of the Weasley boys, aren’t you?"

Ron nodded, feeling extremely embarrassed, all of a sudden. "My name's Ronald," he finally managed, when the woman kept looking at him expectantly.

He shook the slim, pale, hand that was offered and decided that Malfoy's mother was rather different from Lucius; but, in her own way, at least as scary.

* * *

Hermione looked up from the paper she was writing when Ron unceremoniously plopped himself down on the chair in front of her. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, in what she thought was a rather fish-like fashion.

"What's the matter, Ronald?" she finally asked.

He took a deep breath. The events of the day were beginning to sink in, and it wasn't pretty.

"Harry's shagging Malfoy," he blurted out, suddenly looking rather green.

"Ah." She put down her quill. "I'll get you a cup of tea, shall I?"

"Tea," he repeated, and shuddered.

  


	30. The Night Before

"Here you go." Draco handed him the small bottle. "Courtesy of our good friend Severus. It suppresses anxiety and shouldn't clash with Dreamless Sleep."

"Thanks." Harry smiled. "Um, am I supposed to drink the whole thing?"

The other boy nodded.

“Okay.” Harry quickly downed the potion and flinching, reached for the glass of pumpkin juice on the nightstand.

Draco gave him an amused look. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. Yuck. That greasy git must really hate me."

Draco chuckled.

Harry crawled back under the covers. "Draco?" he said softly.

"Hm?"

"Will you be coming to bed soon?"

"Yeah, just putting these books away. I hate it when my room starts to resemble a rubbish tip."

Harry looked around the near-spotless quarters and frowned. So Draco was a bit of a neat freak, even without a house-elf around to do the actual work? Or maybe he was terrified for tomorrow too, but just dealt with it in a different way than Harry did?

Harry didn't think it would be wise or even appropriate to ask. Neither of them needed to be more frazzled at the moment. So instead, he said, "Don't be too long. I... I really need you here with me."

It wasn't a lie, either.

Draco smiled.

* * *

In his room in the Ravenclaw section, Voldemort mentally prepared himself for his big day.

The Dark Lord was feeling confident.

All the players were in place.

All the necessary arrangements had been made.

This time tomorrow, no one would dare question his supremacy ever again.

He had yet to receive any clarification on the Malfoy issue, but there would still be plenty of time for that later.

At least young Nott appeared to be both highly skilled and very eager.

Voldemort decided that some day, the boy would make a most excellent asset to his Inner Circle.

* * *

Draco reemerged from the bathroom.

He climbed into bed next to Harry. Propping himself up on one elbow, he said with a grin, "My presence was apparently required?"

“Yeah." Harry smiled. He scooted closer and ran a hand through Draco’s hair.

"Feeling more relaxed now, Harry?”

"Yeah. I think Snape's vile concoction is working."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand. "Good."

"How about you? Are you doing okay?" Harry couldn't keep the concern out of his voice.

"Not too bad."

"That didn't sound very convincing, Draco."

"Alright." He let out a sigh. "I admit it, I'm a bit of a wreck too."

Harry shook his head. "Just as I thought. So why didn't you ask Snape for a potion as well?"

"Why do you think?"

"Um, because you're a proud idiot?"

"Thanks."

"Well, wasn't that the reason?"

"In a nutshell, I suppose, it was. I just didn't... I _don't_ want to appear weak in front of Severus. Malfoys aren't weak."

Harry gently kissed Draco's cheek. "You're not weak. You're human. And that's perfectly alright, you know."

"Please... Don't go all tacky on me, Potter. It doesn't suit you." He was smirking when he said it, but he was very grateful for the reassurance nonetheless.

Harry decided that talking probably wasn't the best thing to do, so he leaned in for a deep kiss instead.

Draco eagerly responded.

Kissing fast led to touching. Touching led to exploring and not before long, things between them got kind of heated.

"Harry," Draco whispered, his breathing erratic, "would you mind if I... _Guh_... This top is really getting on my nerves... Want to… feel you... properly."

"Gah, yeah...." Harry moaned. "Please, take it off."

Draco didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands shaking slightly, he fumbled with the buttons, until they were all undone. He hesitantly pressed a kiss on Harry's bare chest.

"This alright?" he asked, unsure of how far he could go.

"Yes... Very."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He slowly made a trail of kisses down Harry’s neck and chest, causing the boy to moan and whimper.

Draco became more aroused by the second.

Touching Harry like this, the interesting sounds the boy was making; those warm hands wandering over his own back, sometimes pausing to stroke his hair...

Draco couldn’t hold back a whimper of his own, and he thought that this might be an appropriate time to stop, while they still could, before things got out of control.

"Harry," he managed, for the moment still capable of coherent speech, "let me know if you ... I mean, if this is going too far."

"It... it's… not... Draco…. Guh, this is... amazing."

"Hm. It is," he agreed. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do? To make it even more... amazing for you?"

"Um..." Harry blushed. He was enjoying this so much, maybe a little bit too much. And what else would he like? He wasn't sure. Well, he _was_, if he were completely honest. But would it be all right to ask Draco to touch him _there_? Would the boy even want to?

Harry felt more exquisite kisses in his neck, and his fast growing arousal made up his mind for him.

It couldn't hurt to ask, could it? If Draco didn't want to, he'd just say no, wouldn't he? There wouldn't be any drama, would there? And besides, Draco was expecting some kind of answer too, wasn't he?

"Well, um,” Harry stammered. "Draco... I... Would you mind touching me... um..."

Draco took a deep breath. _Wow._ Did Harry mean...?

He looked at his boyfriend, who was now blushing furiously, and decided that there was only one way to find out that wouldn’t cause Harry any further embarrassment. Cute though that persistent shyness was, Draco really didn't like the idea of making Harry uncomfortable. Not at a time like this.

He slowly moved his right hand to the waistband of his boyfriend's pajamas, hoping he'd understood correctly. "You mean, you’d like me to...?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, relieved that he didn't have to ask explicitly. "Please."

Draco nodded, his own cock twitching at the way Harry had said _please_.

He slid his hand inside the pajama pants, and gently wrapped his fingers around Harry's erection. He was immediately rewarded with another moan.

Draco smiled and started to stroke slowly. "Is this alright?" he asked softly. "I've never done this before... Erm, to someone else, I mean."

"Perfect." Harry groaned. "Hmmm, Draco..." His breathing was becoming ragged. "You can... go... faster... if you want?"

Draco picked up the pace, reveling in the sight before him.

Harry was biting his bottom lip, throwing his head from side to side, panting and moaning, definitely not embarrassed anymore, but clearly enjoying every minute of this.

Draco whispered, "Gods, Harry, if only you could see how fucking amazing you look right now."

“Come here,” Harry said in an urgent whisper. He threw his arms around Draco and pulled him closer.

Draco continued working his hand and he leaned in for another intense kiss. His hips, meanwhile, took on a life of their own. They began to grind against Harry's thigh, dealing with his own throbbing erection, which was now very much in need of some attention too.

After that, neither boy was able to hold out for much longer.

Harry climaxed first, forcefully crying out Draco's name, leaving the Slytherin extremely grateful for those thick dungeon walls surrounding them.

Barely a minute later, all rational thought fled Draco's mind as his own orgasm overwhelmed him. "Fuck, Harry," he gasped.

Once again, the room went quiet.

After a few minutes, ever practical, Draco moved to Scourgify the sticky mess they'd made, and he turned to look at Harry's flustered face.

The boy was grinning from ear to ear. "Wow," he whispered.

"Yeah," Draco said with a smug smile. “That just about covers it. Come here, you."

Harry gladly moved into the open arms and rested his head against Draco's chest. He smiled when he felt a light kiss on his forehead.

"Is it possible that Snape gave you some kind of aphrodisiac by mistake?" Draco joked. "Or do we only have ourselves to blame for what just happened?"

"Ugh," Harry responded in mock horror. "Trust you to spoil the moment by dragging Snape into it."

Draco chuckled. "Nonetheless, I think we should do this again, soon; multiple times, to make absolutely sure you weren't poisoned. "

Harry laughed. "I might be persuaded to partake in such an experiment."

"Good." Draco grinned, his eyelids getting heavy. "First, some sleep, though."

"Yeah. Um... Draco?"

"Yes?"

"About tomorrow."

"Hm?"

"It'll be okay, right?"

"We'll deal with it, Harry, whatever it is..."

Harry still wasn't too sure about that, but thankfully, that didn't stop him from drifting off into a peaceful sleep. He was going to need his rest.

The grim reality of tomorrow was only a few hours away.


	31. Into The Maze

Harry didn't enjoy the white lies he had to tell a very worried Pansy that morning.

He mightn't like the girl much, but still...

Parkinson was to Draco what Hermione and Ron were to him, and he knew full well that his best friends were pretty frantic this morning.

Draco didn't want to put Pansy through that too, so Harry said, "Draco's not coming."

"Nerves?"

"After what happened last time, he doesn't want to sit in the audience again. He prefers to stay in his room, until it's all over."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Do you think I should go in and keep him company?"

"Nah," Harry replied quickly. "You know how he gets when people make a fuss."

"Yes, but still... I'm hardly _people_."

"And I'm certain he'll be wanting a full report afterwards too."

"That, he probably will. Very well, then. Let's go. Vince, you stay here and watch Draco's door, would you, dear?"

No arguments at all from Vincent. "Sure thing, Pans."

Pansy was completely oblivious to the fact that throughout her entire conversation with Harry, her best friend was actually standing right behind her, having cast a tricky invisibility spell on himself.

* * *

The expectant crowd roared when the two boys emerged from the tent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the third and final Task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to commence! Due to unfortunate events beyond our control, Mister Viktor Krum of Durmstrang and Miss Delacour of the Beauxbatons Academy will, alas, not be competing today."

There was a brief silence, before Bagman continued, "Please give a round of encouraging applause to the two Hogwarts champions, Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff House and Harry Potter of Gryffindor!"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

Or at least, the majority of the crowd did. Hermione applauded with an anxious look on her face. So did Ron, who was still keeping a discreet eye on Theodore Nott, second bench to the right.

And despite herself, Pansy wasn't very comfortable, either. She didn't consider Potter to be any less of an attention-seeking, self-important plonker now than she had done a few months ago, but she was also very aware that if anything were to happen to Mister Wonderful today, she'd probably never be able to piece Draco back together again.

_So you'd better do well, Potter, if you know what's good for you._

"Right, gentlemen," Bagman now bellowed. "On the count of three... one... two... three! " He blew his whistle.

As one, Harry, Cedric and an invisible Draco stepped forward and entered the maze.

The first thing they noticed, aside from the darkness, was the deafening silence that surrounded them. The boisterous crowd suddenly seemed a world away.

"Lumos!" Harry spoke. It was quickly followed by a “Finite Incantatem” from Draco, who was instantly visible again. "Fancy seeing you here, Malfoy," Cedric remarked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Draco smirked. "Right," he said, getting straight down to business. “Rule number one, we stick together all the time. Rule number two, psychic blocking spell. Seeing neither of you has mastered Occlumency yet - please, don't glare at me, Diggory. Hufflepuffs don't glare - we'll be sticking with Mensas Obscuritas like we agreed last night. Rule number three... Pay attention, Diggory, this one's especially for you. If you get in our way, if you endanger us, if you somehow piss me off, if you try any funny business at all, it will be Stupefy first, talk later for you, understood?"

Cedric nodded grimly. "It’s a real pleasure working with you too, Malfoy," he mumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes and shot his boyfriend a pointed look.

"So," Draco went on relentlessly, paying no attention to Harry's glares, "I believe this is where we block..." They each muttered their spell. "And now... left or right, Harry?"

"Um, left, I guess."

They continued on, slowly and carefully. Shrill voices echoed all around them. Were those sounds real or only in their heads? There was no way to be absolutely sure.

_One step. Two steps. Three steps... Don't listen. Don't think. Don't try to understand. Don't hesitate._

Draco acted quickly when one of the hedges unexpectedly lurched forward and almost caused Cedric to stumble. He grabbed the Hufflepuff by the shoulders and yanked him back with as much force as he could muster. The hedge shrieked (had he actually heard that correctly?) and shot back in place.

"So the maze doesn't only try to get into your head," Draco thought out loud. “The damn shrubbery physically attacks you, too. I suggest we stick to the middle of the path from now on, people!"

Harry and Cedric nodded.

"Um, thanks, Malfoy," Cedric said a few moments later.

"Don't mention it, Diggory; especially not to anyone else."

Harry shook his head and bit back a grin.

They soldiered on, successfully ignoring the voices and avoiding any further run-ins with the hedges, which seemed to be growing more vicious by the second.

_One step. Two steps. Three steps... Is there no end to this?_

They turned yet another corner, and there it was at last, proudly displayed on a stone table... the Triwizard Cup.

Harry proceeded to walk towards the prize, but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," Draco whispered. "This is far too easy, Harry."

"I don't see anything. Even the hedges have gone quiet."

"My point exactly."

They paused for a moment.

"How about…" the Gryffindor suggested. "…we walk over together and all grab the Cup at the same time?"

"All three of us? Why?" Cedric asked. He was stunned and just a little affronted at the inclusion of the arrogant Slytherin. Malfoy wasn't even competing in this Tournament, for Merlin's sake!

"Because then they'll have three so-called winners to contend with, not just Harry," Draco replied, with the annoyed exasperation of someone pointing out the painfully obvious. "And don't worry, Diggory,” he added. “I'm not one bit interested in your precious Cup. It's hideously large and would probably clash with my draperies."

The Hufflepuff ignored the sarcasm and asked, "Are you two still convinced you've got it right? So far, this seems like standard Task stuff to me."

"So it does," Draco said, his patience wearing very thin, “and that’s exactly the reason why I suspect that the big, nasty surprise is yet to come. So if you would just cooperate, Diggory, so we can all get on with it?"

Cedric looked over at Harry for support. The Gryffindor just shrugged. Basically, he agreed with everything Draco was saying, even if the way he said it left something to be desired.

"Right," the Slytherin now spoke. "Shall we, then? At the count of three. One... Two... Three..."

Together, they reached for the Cup.

And then, when he experienced a familiar tug at his navel, Harry suddenly realized that the moment he'd been dreading had arrived. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey.

A few seconds later, he felt himself hit hard soil. He took a deep breath and waited for the dizziness to pass; momentarily too scared to open his eyes.


	32. The Confrontation

Draco took a deep breath and looked around.

They had arrived at a pitch-dark graveyard. Not only the location, but also the darkness was most unexpected. Technically, it was still morning, wasn't it? Afternoon at most? Unless, of course, the maze had warped their perception of time and they'd been in there for much longer than he'd thought.

He turned to look at Harry. The boy was lying next to him on the ground, groaning and clutching at his forehead.

"Harry," Draco whispered urgently, "what’s wrong?"

"My scar," was the strangled response. "It hurts. Like. Hell. I... I think _He_'s here."

Draco gulped. "Voldemort?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck! Don't... don't go _anywhere_.”

Carefully, Draco stood up, thankful for the large tombstone that obscured Harry, Cedric and himself from view.

He could hear excited voices in the near distance. He tried to make out how many. Three? Four? Five, maybe?

He was about to attempt a closer look when, suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cedric undertake what could only be described as an act of suicidal stupidity.

Head held high, the Hufflepuff strode forward in the direction of the noise.

Draco cursed because he felt more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin at the moment, as if he had some sort of obligation to stop that misguided moron from getting himself killed.

_This is all Potter's fault_, Draco thought. He sighed and then, trying hard to remain unseen, he followed Diggory.

They approached a crowd of five men standing in a circle. All but one wore masks and Death Eater robes. Draco knew the attire well. He'd seen his father leave the Manor in similar dress on all too many occasions.

When Cedric got closer to the group, five pairs of eyes were suddenly upon him.

"Well, well, well," the man who wasn't wearing a mask spoke, his tone harsh and mocking, "what _have_ we here?"

Draco noted that he looked rather young; early twenties, tops.

"My name is Cedric Diggory."

"Is it, now? Charmed, I'm sure." The man smirked maliciously. "Such a shame, Mister Diggory, that we should meet in such unpleasant circumstances. Unpleasant for you, that is. One prefers one's private meetings a tad more... _private_."

"Is that so?" Cedric pointed his wand straight at the man in front of him. "And who might you be, anyway?"

Draco rolled his eyes. He was suddenly overcome with a strong urge to reach out and hex someone, preferably Diggory. What had that Goblet been on anyway, when it selected this blundering idiot as one of the Champions?

A hollow laugh rang through the air. "You do not recognize the true leader of the Wizarding World, Mister Diggory? How tragically amusing. Allow me to introduce myself. My given name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. You, however, might be more familiar with my chosen title, Lord Voldemort."

Cedric flinched. His hands began to shake. For a moment there, Draco was convinced the boy would faint.

Voldemort spoke again. "But enough of this foolishness. Much as I'm enjoying our little banter, Mister Diggory, I'm afraid I really have much more important matters to attend to at present." He turned to the Death Eaters. "If one of you wouldn't mind?"

A short, plump man stepped forward. He pointed his wand at Cedric, ready to cast the Killing Curse.

But Draco was faster. He rushed out of hiding, aimed his wand and yelled, "Stupefy!"

The Death Eater instantly slumped down to the ground.

Draco turned towards Cedric and mouthed another spell. The baffled Hufflepuff immediately found himself tied to a tree. He was only vaguely aware of the wandless protection spell that was then cast over him.

Draco took a deep, bracing breath. He hoped he would find the courage and wit to improvise, bluff and lie his way out of this mess.

Purposefully, he strode towards Voldemort and bowed. "My Lord, how wonderful to meet you at last. I daresay, you are looking extremely well!"

Two eyebrows rose. "Master... Malfoy?" the man spoke.

"Yes, Sir. My father informed me there would be a gathering here today."

Mentally, Draco crossed his fingers, hoping that Lucius had indeed been aware of this meeting.

"Did he, now?" The Dark Lord appeared intrigued. "And you decided to drop in, because...?"

"I was most eager to see you deal with Potter, Sir. Finally."

"Finally, indeed." Voldemort smirked. "And your father?"

"Oh, he's not here?" Draco looked around, feigning ignorance.

"Indeed, he is not. No matter. Might I enquire as to why you just decided to stun my loyal servant Pettigrew?"

"Well, My Lord..." Draco hesitated very briefly, before he replied, sounding notably more confident than he actually was, "Personally, I felt it would be more beneficial for the Hufflepuff to witness Potter's demise. This way, he will be able to give the world a detailed account of your victory later. After all, an awed independent witness can be an excellent tool to get one's point across, especially if that witness happens to be a star pupil, a Triwizard Champion, a popular student held in high regard by most..." He trailed off. "And if Your Lordship could also find it within himself to be merciful towards the boy, that could greatly help Our Cause as well, make things appear less... black and white, so to speak?"

"You may have a point," Voldemort reluctantly agreed after a few very tense moments. "So be it. In future, however, I suggest you consult with me first, prior to taking that type of initiative again."

"Yes, certainly, Sir. I do apologize humbly if I was out of line."

Voldemort nodded. "Now, would you care to assist me, Draco, while I deal with our little problem over there?" He gestured towards Harry. The Gryffindor was now standing a few feet away, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Definitely, Sir."

Draco forced a smirk, while inwardly, he cursed again. Hadn't he told Harry to stay right where he was? Why didn't that stubborn prat ever listen?

_Fuck you and your fucking hero complex, Potter!_

Harry stepped forward, while Draco went to stand beside Voldemort.

"Ah, Mister Potter!" the Dark Lord spoke. "So we meet again. And what a jolly little reunion this has turned out to be.”

"Speak for yourself," Harry snarled.

"Tut-tut-tut! Is that any way to talk to your superior, Harry? Obviously, your filthy Mudblood mother never taught you any manners. Very well, then. Any last words?"

"You tell me, Riddle."

They both acted at the same time. Light flowed from each raised wand.

To Draco's amazement, the two green beams met somewhere in the middle, leaving Harry and Voldemort engaged in what looked like a very intense magical duel. He glanced over at the three Death Eaters. They were staring intently at the spectacle before them.

If only he knew who they actually were, then perhaps, he'd have a better idea of how to deal with them.

After some serious consideration, Draco decided that Stupefy was probably the fastest and easiest option. Should complications arise, he'd just deal with them as they happened.

None did.

Soon, the Death Eaters were lying motionless on the ground, while Voldemort remained completely unaware of anything other than his confrontation with Harry, the intensity of which was beginning to worry Draco.

This was taking far too long. Harry had a very pained expression on his face. You could practically see his energy draining away fast. This was bound to be a losing battle.

Draco had to do something, turn the tables somehow.

He tried the spell they'd last used, to set up a psychic link between them.

Unfortunately, couldn't get through.

He attempted Legilimency, only to find himself overwhelmed by a plethora of voices inside Harry's head. As well as the image of a beautiful woman with bright green eyes; Harry's mother?

Draco was fast running out of ideas. There had to be some way to get and hold Harry's attention.

_Alright, then. Here goes nothing._

"Harry Potter!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Stop what you're doing right now! I want you to come back to me! I want us to finish this! Bloody hell, Harry! I LOVE YOU!"

It had been a last resort; a sickeningly tacky move, overall. Not the sort of thing he'd willingly admit to, or would ever want to mention again in future. But amazingly enough, it worked.

Well, to a point...

While Harry remained miles away, Voldemort suddenly snapped back to the here and now.

Lowering his wand in shock, the Dark Lord turned around and fixed Draco with an enraged look. "_What_ did you just say?" the man bellowed.

Draco gulped. He looked past Voldemort and saw how the abrupt breach of the magical link threw Harry to the ground. The Gryffindor landed badly, his back slamming hard against a large gravestone.

_Shit._

"DRACO MALFOY!"

_Oh. Voldemort's shouting at me. Double shit._

"I should have suspected! Your father was the first to betray me! It was to be expected that you would follow! Where did Lucius escape to, exactly? Greece maybe? Germany? Canada? Oh, don't tell me... Australia, wasn't it?"

Draco noticed how Harry slowly staggered back to his feet. The boy looked injured and very confused.

_You're going to pay for this,_ Draco vowed silently, _I'm going to get you, you vile, hypocritical half-blooded bastard!_

Draco sneered, stalling for time. "My father didn't betray you at all, My Lord," he said. Even to himself, his voice sounded eerily calm, given the circumstances. "In fact, he was most loyal to you until his very last breath."

Voldemort's eyes widened.

"That is to say-" Draco paused a beat for effect, before he added, "Until I killed him."

Harry, in the meantime, seemed to have regained his composure. He was steady on his feet once more and looking straight at Draco.

Very briefly, their eyes met.

_You know what to do, don't you, Harry?_

Still no sign of a psychic link.

_Fuck._

"Dublevo," Draco quickly and very carefully mouthed, making good use of Voldemort’s temporary befuddlement. He hoped Harry would get the message. Thankfully, the other boy nodded in understanding.

Voldemort raised his wand again. He gave Draco a murderous look and hissed, "Blood traitor!"

Harry and Draco's wands shot up at the same time and were pointed squarely at Voldemort's torso.

"What?" The Dark Lord laughed. He didn't realize that Harry was standing behind him, ready to strike as well. "Do you honestly think you're any kind of match for me, young Malfoy? You've always been an arrogant little shit, haven't you? From the day you were born, your mother…"

He never got to finish what he’d been about to say, which was just as well. No one liked to hear bad things about their mother, least of all Draco Malfoy.

The two boys cast an ancient Bulgarian curse that had been banned and subsequently forgotten, well over a century ago. The Dark Lord fell to the ground and disintegrated, dissolved completely, in a beacon of purple light.

_"Sometimes only evil can vanquish evil."_

Rather ironically, those words had been spoken by Narcissa, when she'd first told Draco about that curse and had handed him the little book that held the finer details.

No remains were left on the ground. There was no scorch mark, either, and no stench of burning flesh. The curse had been surprisingly thorough, in more ways than one.

Feeling somewhat dizzy from the powerful magic, Draco slowly staggered over to where Harry was standing. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "I think so."

"Good.”

Draco pulled his boyfriend into a tight embrace. He felt how Harry leaned against him for support. Clearly, the boy was rapidly losing the strength to remain standing. "Come on," Draco said softly. "Let's sit for a bit.”

He grabbed Harry's hand and they both sank down to the ground.

"I'm exhausted, Draco."

"Yeah, same here." He smiled and took Harry in his arms again. "That was pretty intense back there."

They stayed like that for a moment. Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair and tenderly kissed his face until they suddenly heard a loud cough behind them. "Erm, excuse me?"

Draco turned around and almost burst out laughing. He had all but completely forgotten about the Hufflepuff who was still tied to that tree.

"Finite Incantatem!" Draco yelled.

Immediately, the ropes disappeared and Cedric slid down to the ground.

* * *

They rounded up the still unconscious Death Eaters.

Draco was shocked and saddened to discover that Goyle Senior was among them. Greg and his father had never been close, but that didn't make Draco feel any less guilty about probably landing the man in Azkaban.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

The others nodded.

"Right, then. Hold on tight, and onto our guests as well."

All three of them touched the Cup again and soon found themselves being transported back to the maze.


	33. The Return Of The Champions

At the sight of someone re-emerging from the maze, the crowd erupted in loud cheers. It was automatic. They'd been waiting for hours, after all; some among them more frantically than others.

However, when the audience took in the unusual display before them, boisterous enthusiasm and blatant relief soon turned into silent bewilderment.

Instead of one winning Champion, three boys were currently walking towards the judges, carrying....

From a distance and in the dim light, it was an easy mistake to make. Most people thought that the four pale, motionless men were in fact dead bodies.

A younger student's piercing scream rang through the air. It shattered the loaded silence and it was the perfect starting shot for the panicked chaos that instantly followed.

Suddenly, people all around were shouting, running, crying... Apart from those who remained seated, frozen in shock.

Pansy was one of the first to react. She would have recognized that blonde mop of hair anywhere, so she was fast on her feet and furious at herself for having bought that _he'll stay in his room today_ story earlier. She cursed under her breath as she sped in her best friend's direction, not caring in the least whom she bumped into, shoved aside or knocked over on the way.

Neville was right behind her.

At about the same time, Ron, who'd been diligently spying on Nott for hours, leapt up as well.

To Hermione's surprise, he didn't join her in running down to where Harry was, however. Instead, he went after the shady Slytherin who was fast making his way back to the castle.

Severus Snape, meanwhile, briskly strode towards the judges' table. He glared hatefully at any hysterical student who dared get in his way. Unsurprisingly, very few did.

Narcissa quickly followed in his footsteps. She was relieved to see her son alive, but at the same time she was also extremely worried. Even from where she'd been sitting, the Death Eater attire had been all too easy to recognize.

When they stood in front of Bagman and Dumbledore, Harry, Draco and Cedric put down the unconscious men they'd half carried, half dragged out of the maze.

The headmaster opened his mouth to speak, but a fast approaching Professor Snape beat him to it.

"SILENCE!" the Potions Master bellowed at the crowd. Then he turned to Draco and said dryly, "Mister Malfoy, I wasn't aware Slytherin also had a Triwizard Champion. And would any of you gentlemen care to explain... _that_?" He gestured towards the Death Eaters on the ground.

Harry glanced to his left. He saw Draco give him an encouraging nod. Harry took a deep breath. "Voldemort was there," he said. "So were... those guys... We had to Stupefy them."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I see. And pray tell, where is the Dark Lord now?"

"We erm... kind of erm… vanquished him."

"Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me, Mister Potter...?"

"Yes, he is," Draco cut in and shouted, for everyone to hear, "Voldemort is dead!"

All around them, gasps were heard. They were soon followed by excited chattering and relieved laughter.

"Oh, well done, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. She pulled her best friend into a big hug.

"Yeah, well done too, Draco." Pansy smirked. She had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head in a mixture of awe and amusement.

Narcissa gave her son a warm smile and resisted the urge to walk over and embrace the boy in front of the whole school.

"You also helped, didn't you, Cedric?" That voice belonged to Cho Chang.

The way the girl cooed reminded Hermione of the rabid female fans that used to hang around Viktor before his attack. Hermione thought it was rather disturbing. She noted that Cedric, himself didn't seem terribly impressed either.

* * *

Just outside the castle, Ron had at last caught up with Nott.

Sadly, things weren't going nearly as smoothly as he'd hoped. The Slytherin had turned out to be much faster and a lot stronger than he'd anticipated. Which was why Ron currently found himself backed up against a wall, engaged in a common fist fight; wands had been sent flying long ago.

Theodore raised his arm again. Ron braced himself to duck another blow, when suddenly someone shouted, "Stupefy!"

Nott instantly hit the ground, leaving Ron standing face to face with none other than Gregory Goyle.

"Good going, Weasley!" Greg said with a grin. "I saw the sneaky bugger leave, but he was way too fast for me to keep up with. You alright?"

"Um, yeah," Ron replied sheepishly. "Thanks.”


	34. Destinies Defied

"With all due respect, Albus, but have you _completely_ lost your mind?" Professor Snape regarded the headmaster intensely. "What relevance is there to predictions that pertain to someone who is no longer a threat? And they were made by Sybill, of all people? Surely, you too must realize, that this woman spews forth tales of impending doom with the ease and frequency that most other people _breathe_."

"Severus," Dumbledore responded, his voice calm, "I'm afraid you're missing the point. Harry wasn't supposed to defeat Voldemort for another four years. And as for young Malfoy..." He paused for a moment.

"Yes, _do_ go on. What about Draco?"

"Not that I'm complaining, Severus. In fact, I'd been hoping that this would be one development I'd be able to prevent. But it has been foretold that Draco would grow into one of the most powerful Dark wizards of his time. This... ah... sudden turnaround of events should not under any circumstances have consequences on the grand scale of things."

"I see. And you automatically assume these possible consequences will be bad?"

"At this point, it's too early to tell. However, it would seem that, to an extent, both young men have evaded their destiny. Harry did not come of age to single-handedly defeat Voldemort, nor did Draco rise to power at the Dark Lord's side."

"Destiny," Snape repeated, as a smirk began to tug at the corners of his mouth. "Some might argue that one is responsible for one's own."

"Perhaps."

A loaded silence followed, until the old man finally spoke again. "Now that Voldemort has been defeated, it might be an appropriate time for Harry to return to Gryffindor Tower."

Snape had been awaiting this remark and has his answer ready. "I fear I must disagree with you on that point, Albus," he said. "Potter may no longer be sought by the Dark Lord, himself, but some Death Eaters might be out for retribution, relying on their children to avenge their Master. I'm afraid I must insist that Potter remain in the dungeons, under my supervision, until we have absolute certainty that all of Riddle's followers have been apprehended."

Dumbledore sighed resignedly. "Very well, then. Even if the thought of Harry being under constant Slytherin influence continues to worry me greatly. If you recall..."

Snape bit back a bitter laugh. Recall? How could he ever forget? Potter's acceptance letter had barely left Hogwarts Grounds, or operation _Keep the boy out of Slytherin_ had already sprung into action. It had even involved that loose lipped oaf more commonly known as Hagrid.

Initially, Snape had been mildly annoyed, and when Potter's Gryffindor-inspired actions had led to repeated humiliation for his beloved godson, he'd been downright livid. As if having Lucius Malfoy's expectations hanging over his head hadn't already been enough of a hardship for poor Draco.

"Indeed I do," he said dryly. "However, I also remember a rather persistent rumour about the Sorting Hat wanting to place Mister Potter in my House, originally. Perhaps, we should ask the Hat's advice again, Albus? Have Mister Potter resorted?"

Truth be told, that prospect secretly amused the Potions professor far more than he cared to admit. There wasn't a hint of doubt in his mind that, a second time around, Harry Potter would immediately make Slytherin; the need to be with his precious Draco would instantly land the Golden Boy right in the middle of the Snake pit.

"We needn't go that far, Severus," Dumbledore spoke, realizing he'd lost this battle. "I trust your judgment."

Snape gave a curt nod. "Very well and so be it."

As he stalked back to the dungeons, Severus still had his reservations about the relationship between his godson and the Potter spawn. But at the same time, he was also beginning to find all the complications resulting from the unusual pairing mildly entertaining and, in some cases, even rather gratifying.

_Ah yes. Payback's a bitch, isn't it, Albus?_

* * *

When Draco entered his room, he saw Harry sitting at the desk. The boy was staring into space and didn't look too happy.

Draco went to stand behind Harry's chair and put his hands on the Gryffindor's shoulders. "Everything alright?"

"Hm."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Never mind, Draco. It's silly."

"Silly?"

"I'm not sure you'd understand."

Draco slowly bent down to drop a kiss on Harry's right ear. "Try me," he whispered. "I've been told I'm a fairly intelligent specimen."

This earned him a small smile. "Alright." Harry took a deep breath. "I'm very happy we defeated that bastard, obviously. "

"I should bloody well hope so!" Draco grinned. "Sorry. Go on..."

"Um, yeah... but... I suppose... at the same time, I feel like... um... " He tried to make a joke of it. "_The Boy Who Outlived His Purpose_? I've spent so many years thinking about Voldemort ... worrying ... having nightmares ... it was all-consuming... and now... that's over with... and... I suppose... I just... don't know ... what to do next... These last couple of years, I never considered I'd actually have a future... a normal life." He let out a sigh. "Does that make any sense?"

Draco smiled and he carefully seated himself on Harry's lap. "I'm not too heavy for you, am I?"

"Heh. No."

"Good." Draco cupped Harry's face with his hands. "Listen," he said softly, "I see what you're trying to say. Mind you, I don't know if I can help you with the normal life bit, though. Malfoys have never led ordinary lives either. Besides..." One hand was now stroking Harry's right cheek. "You and I have this whole Wizard thing going on as well. That’s bound to freak out any random Muggle. Not that I care all that much about Muggles, of course."

"Perish the thought," Harry whispered. His glum mood had passed and he was grinning now, and becoming slightly giddy from his boyfriend's touches and proximity.

"So I can't give you _normal_, Harry. However..." He moved even closer, running both his hands through Harry's hair. "I can give you lots of _interesting_ in your future. And if you like, we can have a word with Severus about studies and career prospects and such, for you... Hey, don't give me that look! He wouldn't dare say no to me."

Harry chuckled. "You mean, to your mother."

"Same difference. Then, as far as outliving your purpose goes..." Draco gave a sly grin, before he moved his hands down to Harry's neck, slowly loosening the Gryffindor tie. "I'm sure there are plenty of ways I can make use of you, Harry Potter. And seeing how we don't have any classes for the whole afternoon, I could start demonstrating that to you right now, if you’d like."

Harry's breath hitched in his throat as a now familiar desire swept over him. "I'd like that very much," he whispered.

Then Draco's mouth was on his and everything else was temporarily forgotten.

* * *

"Hermione?"

At the sound of her name, she looked up from her book. "Oh. Hello, Cedric."

"I have some good news for you," he said with a smile. "When I went to visit Fleur just now, Madame Pomfrey told me that Viktor's woken up. So if you want to go and see him..."

"That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed and practically jumped up out of her chair. Then she quickly put her hand over her mouth, remembering how you really shouldn't shout in the library. "Thanks for letting me know," she continued in a much lower voice. "By the way, how's Fleur?"

He frowned. "Well... When Nott was put under Veritaserum, he mentioned a poison Voldemort himself injected her with. Nott didn't know which one, though. So the healers are still looking."

Hermione nodded. "I hope they'll figure it all out soon."

"Me too," Cedric said. "Thanks."

"No." Hermione smiled brightly. "Thank you! Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She ran all the way to the hospital wing, as fast as her legs could carry her.


	35. Beware The Malfoy Heir

For the third day in a row, the Triwizard Tournament and the subsequent defeat of the Dark Lord were practically the only topics The Daily Prophet cared to write about.

Draco couldn't help but grin and shake his head at how they were calling him a hero now.

He was even more amused when he saw Cedric Diggory mentioned in the same vein. Yes, that tree had been exceptionally vicious, no doubt about it.

Amongst themselves, the trio had agreed to never disclose the details of what had happened in the cemetery to anyone else. It was a secret they intended to take to their graves.

They wouldn't speak about the curse that had killed Voldemort in the end, either. Not in the least because Dublevo was highly illegal.

In the meantime, the arrest of the four Death Eaters had already led to the capture of dozens of others all over the country. The Dark Side had all but lost.

Meeting Harry's eyes across the Great Hall, Draco winked. He received a goofy grin in return.

* * *

Professor Trelawney trembled violently. She struggled to steady herself against her desk and almost succeeded.

A few students shuddered in anticipation of what was bound to come.

"Harrryyyy Potterrrrrr!" the teacher wailed in a low, guttural voice, her eyes rolling back in her head. "This is not over. A new Dark Lord will rise!"

Harry flinched.

Trelawney staggered towards him and grabbed one of his wrists. "Beware the Malfoy Heir, Harry Potter... Beware!"

Harry gulped. "What?"

"I see a lot of horrible deaths in your future. He will betray. He will seize power. He will kill!"

Harry had heard enough.

He leapt up, fled from the classroom and sped down to the dungeons. A hand clamped over his mouth, he ran into Draco's quarters and headed straight for the private bathroom where he promptly threw up.

"Harry?" Draco dropped his book and went over to the closed door. "You alright in there?"

"Yeah... just... give me a minute."

Draco heard the toilet flush, then the sound of running water. A few minutes later, Harry reemerged, looking ghostly pale.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked. "Are you ill?"

He shook his head. "No. Trelawney. She said you're... going... you're... the next Voldemort. "

"I'm _what_?" Draco yelled. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes."

"bloody hell. Whatever inane bollocks will that woman throw at us next?"

Harry didn't reply. Instead, he said, his voice shaky, "Um, look, Draco, I don't feel too brilliant. I'm going outside for some fresh air, clear my head."

"Alright. Want me to come along?"

"No. Um, I ... need some time alone... to think."

Draco didn't much like the sound of that, but he decided not to argue and upset Harry even more. So he forced a smile, nodded and sadly watched him walk out the door.

_We can never quite catch a break, can we, Harry?_

Draco resisted a strong urge to start throwing things around the room, and tried to come up with a more constructive course of action instead.

* * *

In some circles, suspicion reigned.

"Maybe he just wanted Harry to take care of Voldemort for him, clear the path, so to speak?"

"Honestly, Ronald, what an absolutely horrid thing to say! Have you actually seen them together? Draco's completely devoted to Harry."

"Oh, it's _Draco_ now, is it? That's bloody marvelous, that is! Even you are..."

"I'm what? Fraternizing with the enemy again, am I, Ronald? Which reminds me, Viktor is expecting me."

"What about dinner, then?"

"You're a big boy, aren't you? I'm sure you can go by yourself. I'm afraid I've just lost my appetite."

Hermione stalked off without another word.

* * *

The more Draco thought about the whole Trelawney incident, the more furious he became. Not only because his own reputation had gone from hero right back to villain in a few simple words, and for no good reason, but mostly because Harry had been so troubled and upset.

_Harry._

This had to stop.

He glanced at the clock and wondered if Severus was already back in his office. Then he strode out of the room, determined to find his godfather for an important and rather urgent chat.

* * *

The Potions Master looked up from the papers he was grading.

At any other time, Draco might have been amused by the large supply of red ink at hand. Now, however, he was far too angry to pay the matter much attention.

"Take a seat," Snape spoke. "So, what brings you here, Draco? Don't you have class?"

He shook his head. "Study period."

"Ah." Snape regarded him questioningly. "Well?"

Draco leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. "About ten minutes ago," he began, "Harry charged into my quarters after a rather unpleasant Divination lesson. Apparently, that lunatic Trelawney predicted that I'm the next Voldemort. Not unsurprisingly, Harry didn't take that too well. He was violently sick in my bathroom and then he bolted."

Snape's eyes widened. He threw his quill down on his desk with considerably more force than necessary and exclaimed, "Sweet Salazar!"

"_Quite._ Now, what I'd like to know for once and for all is just what the bloody hell you people are playing at here?"

"Pardon me?" The man's surprise seemed genuine.

"Please. Credit me with some intelligence. Harry and I have become friends – and much more than that. We even rid the world of Voldemort together, and now, suddenly, out of nowhere, I'm supposedly destined to be the new Dark Lord? A little too much of a coincidence, wouldn't you agree, Severus? You'd almost start suspecting people would prefer me to turn into Lucius the second or better yet, Riddle the second, wouldn’t you? To locate the source of all evil, just find the nearest Malfoy, is that it? When is this crap finally going to stop? Isn't that little tug of war getting slightly stale after all these years?"

For a moment, Snape couldn't decide between slapping his godson for presuming that he was somehow involved in this, and congratulating the boy for figuring out that they were indeed being manipulated.

He eventually settled for the latter.

More or less.

"Fine, Draco," he conceded. "You have a point. Although I must insist that I've never participated in any of it."

Draco frowned. "Go on."

"The headmaster fears for what excess Slytherin influence might to do Harry."

Draco shook his head. It wouldn't be long now, before he completely lost his temper. Maybe an impressive tantrum was already long overdue, anyway; his supposed future status as Dark Lord practically demanded as much.

Thus began the rant Professor Snape wouldn't forget anytime soon.

Once he'd started, it was as if Draco couldn’t hold back any longer.

He told his godfather about the night of the Yule Ball, when Harry Potter had tried to kill himself. He mentioned the conversation that had followed afterwards, about how vehemently fed up Harry had been with his life as Dumbledore's puppet. He touched upon the subject of their training, how they'd started practicing defense spells and wandless magic together because, at the end of the day, it seemed they couldn't rely on anyone but each other.

And finally, their relationship.

Draco put great emphasis on how, in his opinion, all that petty rivalry could have been easily avoided, if only certain people hadn't poisoned Harry’s mind against Slytherin.

While his godson talked relentlessly, the only thing Snape could do was nod repeatedly.

The man had never before considered to regard the situation from Potter's perspective, but if he were entirely honest with himself, he had to admit that both boys had been wronged here, not just Draco, and perhaps, Harry Potter deserved a little more credit and maybe even some compassion. After all, the so-called Golden Boy hadn't exactly chosen this path for himself either.

"And now, Severus," Draco concluded, "I'm very concerned for him. Only yesterday, Harry told me he was worried about the future. Then today that... infuriating woman pulled that dreadful stunt. Harry spent years being tormented by thoughts, nightmares and threats of Voldemort, not to mention the actual confrontations with the bastard. And to associate me with... Does Dumbledore know exactly how close Harry and I are?"

"Not that I'm aware of," came the honest response. Then Snape asked, his voice suddenly uncharacteristically soft, "Draco, much as I appreciate you trusting me with all this, what exactly do you want from me? How can I help?"

"Someone other than myself has to talk to Harry," he said simply. "You're probably not the most ideal candidate, no offense, but I don't know whom else to ask. Pansy only seems to have that kind of patience when it comes to me, and definitely not with Harry... And mother would be entirely too angry to still be rational about the matter. "

Severus nodded. "Any idea where Potter could have gone?"

"The lake, perhaps? Or the Quidditch Pitch?"

"Very well. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Harry stared out over the grass. He was still feeling queasy, but at least the fresh air was helping.

He shouldn't have fled from Draco's room like that, he realized, but at the time, it had all been too much.

The very thought of...

He shook his head. Draco loved him. It was as simple as that. The boy had no ulterior motives.

_Fuck._

Why did everyone, including a mental case like Trelawney, still have the ability to make him doubt everything, even his own judgment, anyway? Would he ever get past that?

"Mister Potter. No more lessons this afternoon?"

Startled, Harry turned in the direction of a voice he knew only too well. What on earth was Snape doing here?

"Not feeling very well, Sir,” he replied softly, and that wasn't a lie.

"I see. Do you mind if I sit down?"

Harry shrugged as the Potions professor joined him on the bench.

"I was informed of an incident in Divination," the man spoke. "As long as you remain in the Slytherin quarters, Mister Potter, you are my responsibility. So if you would want to, say, file a complaint with the school board regarding professor Trelawney's unprofessional conduct earlier today, I would most certainly support it."

Harry almost gasped at the highly unexpected statement.

"Of course, if you would prefer to simply discuss the incident itself, I'd be most willing to lend a listening ear."

"Um..." Harry didn't quite know what to reply to that. "Thank you, Sir."

"So, is there anything you _would_ like to share?" Inwardly, Snape groaned. This was like pulling teeth, and he had never been much of a _people person_ to begin with.

"Well, Sir," Harry said tentatively, "Tre- I mean, Professor Trelawney had a vision during class. She warned me that _the Malfoy Heir_, I assume that's Draco, will rise to become the new Dark Lord."

"I see. And did this vision seem authentic to you, Mister Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Authentic, Sir?" he asked, clearly confused.

Snape sighed. "Yes, Mister Potter, as opposed to a sham."

"Um... It was like the others, I suppose."

Harry frowned. Had Snape just implied that Trelawney faked her visions?

"I see."

There was a brief silence, before the Potions professor said, "You might want to consider returning to your room now, Mister Potter. It's not exactly regular for students to be out here at this time of day. I'll pass on that you aren't feeling well."

Harry nodded and stood up. "Um, thank you, Professor," he said and quickly made his way back to the castle.

He hoped Draco wasn't too worried or angry.


	36. Reconcile And Rebel

His heart was hammering in his throat when he walked back into their room.

"Draco?" It was almost a whisper.

The boy looked up from the sofa. He'd been reading, or at least trying to, in a feeble attempt to keep from worrying too much.

"Harry." It was said with a smile, which instantly made the other boy feel a lot less nervous.

"I'm sorry I left like that earlier,” Harry began. He hoped Draco wasn't very upset with him. "It was all a bit..."

"Yes, I suppose it doesn't happen every day that you’re told your boyfriend's really a Dark Lord in training."

Harry flinched at those words, but soon relaxed when he saw that Draco was still smiling.

"Join me?"

Harry nodded. He walked over to the sofa and moved into waiting arms. Draco gently stroked his hair. They stayed like that for a little while, silently mulling over the events of the past few hours.

Harry was the first to speak again. "Snape suddenly showed up when I was at the Quidditch pitch."

Draco smirked. “Really?"

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not."

"Oh. You sent him, then?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor.” Draco chuckled. "I went and had a word with him, yes, and I asked him to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Because you were a right git and ran away from me."

"I...." Harry didn't finish his sentence; a little belatedly realizing that he was being baited. Some things apparently never changed.

"So what did he say?" Draco asked.

"He told me he'd support me if I decided to file a complaint with the school."

"Ah. And are you going to?"

"I'm not sure. I don't really think it'd do much good, not as long..."

"...as long as the old coot's in charge?"

"Yeah."

"You probably have a point there, unfortunately."

"Draco, do you think Trelawney fakes her visions?"

"Well... I've never taken Divination in my life. Waste of time, in my opinion, not to mention that it's rather demeaning to think of oneself as a slave to fate... But from what I've heard, those visions are rather frequent and over the top. I know Snape's not terribly convinced. He's even ranted to mother about them."

Harry nodded.

"Anyway..." Draco changed the subject. "Are we going up to dinner tonight, or do I ask Vince to go and pester an Elf?"

"We're eating in the Hall," Harry said determinedly. "I'm not going to hide, and neither should you."

Draco pretended to take offense. "Malfoys do not _hide_, Potter!"

Harry smiled. Then he had a thought. "You know," he began, "now that Greg's staying with his mum for a while, there's an empty seat at your table, right?"

Draco nodded slowly. He had a pretty good idea of where this was going and he could only approve.

* * *

"Well, that's certainly unexpected," the dark-haired man remarked to his companion, again looking at the letter he'd received about ten minutes before.

"What is?"

"It seems our Harry has been kind of busy."

"Do tell, what has he done this time?"

A loud laugh rang through the cozy living room of the otherwise quiet cottage. "Oh, I think you should read this for yourself, Remus! I doubt you'd believe me if I told you."

  
_Dear Sirius,_

I hope this letter finds you well.

I'm sure that even where you are, you must have heard about the Triwizard Tournament and everything that happened with Voldemort.

Yes, we defeated him. Draco Malfoy, Cedric Diggory and me.

I can't talk about the details, because we promised we never would and perhaps you're better off not knowing anyway.

There is, however, something else too.

Well, two things.

I know you've never been fond of Lucius Malfoy (who has, right?). And I realize this might shock you, and I'm sorry about that, but I've recently started seeing his son. Now before you rush over here to test me for Imperius, or get Remus to do it, I have to say that I'm well aware of who he is. I also know who he isn't.

Trust me when I say that Draco's nothing at all like his father. He makes me very happy and I hope you won't hold this relationship against me. Or get all worried.

For now, we're still keeping it more or less a secret. Only a few close friends know about us, as well as Draco's mum and Snape. They seem okay with it . Yes, even dreadful Snape, which I’m sure will give you a good laugh. Or shock your socks off.

The only one who's not too keen on the idea is Ron. I'm starting to wonder if he and Draco will ever get along at all.

Anyway, I mentioned two things.

The second is a little harder to put into words. It concerns Dumbledore.

I've discovered a few things in the past few weeks, ever since I became involved with Draco, actually, and not everything adds up.

So I was wondering if you knew of any information that was intentionally kept from me, "for my own good" or otherwise?

And if so, why would they still do that, now that Voldermort's dead, anyway?

I don't know, maybe I'm just imagining things. But something just doesn't feel altogether right.

Thanks for any insights you may have and please don't kill me (or Draco) now.

Give my best to Remus.

Love,  
Harry

Grinning, Lupin put the letter back on the table. "The Malfoy brat, huh?"

"Find that amusing, do you?"

"Hilarious." He wasn't lying. "And it makes sense too, in a way."

"Does it now?"

"Well, last year, they had to be pulled apart constantly for fighting, like they couldn't leave each other alone. I lost count of all the detentions they collected between themselves. That type of mutual obsession... Sooner or later, it was bound to lead to bloody murder. Or a lot of snogging."

Sirius made a face. "That's my godson you're talking about, you realize. My underage godson, no less."

"And Malfoy's the same age. I'm sure it's just puppy love anyway."

Sirius laughed. "Now there's an interesting choice of words... Seriously, though, what do you think that business regarding Dumbledore is all about? Are they keeping something from Harry?"

"I wouldn't know. Snivellus sends me my Wolfsbane supply regularly, but we don't really correspond. I haven't a clue what's happening at Hogwarts at the moment."

"Do you reckon this is important enough to go and see for ourselves?”

"Hm. You know... I think it just might be".

* * *

The Great Hall was slowly starting to fill up with students.

Ron Weasley was already in his seat, munching on a bread roll, while he waited for the soup to be brought in.

Hermione, to the best of his knowledge, was still in the hospital wing with Krum. Something that didn't make him too happy, but he did his best to take it in his stride.

Besides, with any luck, the bloody Bulgarian would be sodding off back to Durmstrang pretty soon. Then he'd have Hermione all to himself again.

Ron could hardly wait.

And as he sat there, contemplating a hundred ways to rid himself of Viktor Krum, his attention was suddenly drawn to the person who rather demonstratively strode into the Great Hall.

Pansy Parkinson.

The girl cleared her throat, before she shouted at the top of her voice, “All hail to the new Dark Lord!"

A shocked, awkward silence instantly fell over the room and all eyes turned to the people that walked in.

Draco Malfoy, followed closely by Harry Potter, Vincent Crabbe and a rather bashful-looking Neville Longbottom. They made their way to the Slytherin table. A few gasps were heard when none other than The Boy Who Lived sat down next to The Dreaded Malfoy Heir.

And then something worthy of inclusion in “Hogwarts - A History” happened.

At the other end of the room, unable to take his eyes off his godson's latest stunt, Severus Snape suddenly bellowed with laughter.


	37. Secrets And Lies

The stench of sickeningly sweet sherry hit Severus Snape the moment Trelawney opened her door. He supposed that answered his question of why she hadn't appeared at dinner tonight.

"Sybill," he spoke, coming face to face with his inebriated colleague, "I'd hoped to have a word, but perhaps this isn't the most convenient time."

"Nonsense," the woman slurred. She staggered back into the room and plopped herself down on the sofa. "Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, waving her arms wildly, causing a cacophony of jingling bracelets. She reached for the bottle on the table and took another swig.

Snape reluctantly stepped forward. He was appalled at the state of the cramped quarters. Not only were there all kinds of books, trinkets and Merlin only knew what else stacked from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling, it was overly obvious that the place hadn't been properly cleaned for several months either. Were the house-elves too scared to even enter, perhaps?

"What can I do for you, Ssssssss- Severus?" The expression on her face was more vacant than ever.

Snape thought he had probably even less chance of getting a coherent answer out of the woman than usual, but he decided to give it a shot, regardless.

"Today's vision, Sybil," he began, "about the Malfoy Heir?"

"Malfoy Heir." She seemed deep in thought. "There has been a vision?"

Snape frowned. "Yes. And it concerned a new Dark Lord."

"Dark Lord. Serious business those Dark Lords! Albus said... "

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, go on, what did the headmaster say, Sybill?"

"Dark Lords," she repeated. "Ssssss- serious business those Dark Lords!"

Snape shook his head. The woman on the sofa seemed dangerously close to passing out. He obviously wasn't going to get any answers tonight.

He carefully pried the bottle from her hand and as he looked around for the cork, he suddenly noticed something odd. The drink he was holding didn't smell anything like ordinary sherry.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Taking the liquor with him, he headed straight for his potions lab, thinking that, perhaps, this visit hadn't been a total waste of time after all.

* * *

"Well, people, that was certainly different!"

In unison, Draco, Harry, Pansy, Neville and Vincent turned around in the direction of the voice.

"So." There stood Blaise Zabini, grinning from ear to ear. "What's going on anyway?"

Draco was the one to reply. "What? You didn't hear about the incident in Divination?"

"No, I didn't. Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, it seems I've been pegged as the new Dark Lord."

"Really? Congratulations! How's that working out for you, then?"

"It isn't."

"Ah."

A tense silence followed, during which Blaise gave the impression that he actually wanted to add something, but wasn't sure whether he should; either that, or he simply couldn't find the right words.

"Yes, Zabini?" Pansy eventually asked, in a harsh tone of voice she didn't normally use with a fellow Slytherin. "Was there anything else?"

"Well..." He hesitated. "I think there's something Malfoy and Potter may be interested in, but they should probably go and talk to Professor Moody about it."

"Why is that?" Harry wanted to know.

"Sorry, that's all I can tell you. Rest assured, you'll thank me later. "

Without saying anything else, Blaise turned around and swiftly headed in the direction of the library.

"Well, not a hope in hell that I'll be speaking to that daft wanker any time soon," Draco announced after a few moments, not addressing anyone in particular.

Harry chuckled. "Scared you're going to turn all furry on us again, are you, Malfoy?"

This earned him a half-hearted glare. "No, _Potter_. But before we find out exactly what’s going on, I refuse to trust anyone other than Snape, present company excepted, of course. "

"Hm. Do you suppose you could convince Snape to have a word with Moody?" Pansy asked.

"Perhaps. Or he could grill Zabini."

"I'm not so sure that would work, Draco,” the girl countered. “Besides, we still don't know whose side Blaise is on."

He sighed. "Pans, whose side is _anyone_ on anymore? I'd hoped that once we got rid of Voldemort, things would get back to... well, whatever passes for normal around here. Doesn't look like it turned out that way, though. It gets more complicated all the time. "

They walked back to the Slytherin quarters in silence.

Somewhere along the way, Harry grabbed Draco's hand. Suddenly, he found himself caring less and less about keeping their relationship hidden.

Draco understood. He smiled and gave Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

Gazing into his Pensieve, the old wizard shook his head.

It would appear that history was indeed about to repeat itself.

Looking determined, he walked to his fireplace.

Time to call in the favour that would hopefully solve the problem for once and for all.

  


  


	38. Books And Cleverness

"Cédric! Cédric!" Gabrielle Delacour excitedly ran towards the Hufflepuff table and grabbed the former Triwizard Champion by the arm. "Fleur s'est enfin réveillée! Venez! Venez immédiatement!"

"What?" He gave her a confused look.

"I think she wants you to go with her," Hannah Abbot suggested. "Maybe Fleur's conscious?"

"Oh." He saw the little girl's expectant face, stood up and followed her to the hospital wing.

"Slytherin or Gryffindor table?" Draco asked Harry as they walked into the Great Hall.

"Slytherin, I guess. I don't much feel like subjecting myself to one of Ron's moods today."

Draco sighed. "The Weasel should get over himself."

At about the same time, a disgruntled voice remarked at the Gryffindor table, "Well, looks like Harry's definitely joined The Dark Side, then."

"Don't be so unpleasant, Ronald. He probably just wants to sit with Draco."

"What's going on with those two anyway?" Seamus enquired, clearly intrigued. “They seem awfully chummy these days.”

"You don't want to know, mate," Ron said, making a face. "It'll put you off your food, guaranteed."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione spoke, a little louder than intended, and then added in a much lower tone of voice, "Harry's seeing Draco Malfoy, Seamus."

His eyes widened. "Seeing... as in _seeing_, seeing?"

"They're in a relationship, yes," she said matter-of-factly.

"Well... erm... that's certainly... unexpected."

"Twenty shades of bonkers, is what it is," Ron grumbled. "Worst possible taste on Harry’s behalf, is also what it is."

"Actually, I think they look kind of cute together," Ginny cut in. She'd been following the conversation with great interest. "And at least they're not fighting anymore."

"Huh?" Ron's surprise was very evident in his voice. "I thought you erm... fancied Harry, Gin?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Not much point to that if he's gay though, is there?"

Ron didn't quite know how to reply to that, so he silently continued with his breakfast.

The way he saw it, there was clearly only one certainty left in life anymore. The whole of Hogwarts had gone stark-raving mad.

* * *

Severus Snape smirked, satisfied at a job well done.

It had taken him all night, but finally the proof was right in front of him.

Trelawney's sherry had indeed been tampered with. And whoever responsible, they certainly knew what they were doing.

He'd even go so far as to state that a fellow Master in Potions had been - or still was - involved in this deception.

Well, no matter.

He always did enjoy a good challenge.

* * *

"Isn't that your owl, Potter?" Pansy Parkinson asked, pointing at the white bird that came soaring into the room.

"Yes, it is," he replied and called for Hedwig.

When he read the letter, he broke into a wide smile.

"Good news?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. Remus is on his way here."

"Who's Remus?"

"Professor Lupin."

"The werewolf? I didn't know you two kept in touch."

"I'll fill you in on the details later." Harry grinned. "It’s a long story..."

* * *

"Is this seat taken, Granger?"

"Um, no, it isn't."

Hermione was slightly taken aback when Draco Malfoy suddenly sat down next to her. She silently thanked her lucky stars that Ron wasn't doing Astronomy this year and thus, not around to witness this.

"Listen," Draco began, "Harry wanted to have a chat with you at breakfast, but the Wea- I mean, Weasley didn't seem particularly approachable, so he asked if I..." He hesitated for a moment, before he continued in a hushed tone, so only Hermione could hear, "What do you know about prophecies, Granger?"

"Prophecies?"

"Yes. Predictions, foretellings, that type of thing. Have you done a lot of reading on the subject? You do take Divination, don't you?"

Hermione took a deep breath. Draco Malfoy, the boy who'd been calling her horrible names for years, was now being civil to her and inquiring about schoolwork. This was going to take some getting used to.

"Yes,” she finally said, “but I'm planning to drop that class. Trelawney's a little too much to handle. And none of it seems terribly useful, anyhow."

"Ah."

"What's all this really about, Malfoy?"

Draco frowned. He didn't think it would hurt to tell Granger. After all, she'd never do anything to harm her best friend. “Right,” he said. "Harry and I are trying to find out if there really is some kind of foretelling regarding me; not taking into account the nonsense Trelawney is spreading, that is."

"Oh, I see. Hm, nothing I've ever read about, but I could look into it, I suppose." She suddenly had a worried expression on her face. "Is Harry alright? You two aren't in danger or anything, are you?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't think we're in any danger. Not presently. But it can never hurt to be cautious."

She nodded and soon their conversation was cut short by Professor Sinistra's arrival.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione observed the boy sitting next to her.

Draco was surprisingly attentive during class, taking neatly scripted notes all the while. Funny, he had never really struck her as the type who cared about studying. But then, she supposed, he had to be. His scores were nearly as good as hers and he took about as many subjects too.

She wondered if the two of them were going to be friends now, and if that would be such a good idea, considering how Ron still felt about Draco.

Apparently, if Ron's actions were anything to go by, when assessing someone's character, a childish rivalry still took priority over the other person's key role in defeating a Dark Lord.

At times such as these, Hermione thought her friend deserved a slap upside the head.

* * *

At dinnertime, a special edition of The Daily Prophet was delivered.

It included a chilling article about a spectacular escape from Azkaban Prison, along with a WANTED notice.

  
_Have you seen this witch? Do not approach this woman. Do not attempt to use magic against her. She is considered highly dangerous. In case of any sighting, please urgently contact ..._

  
Above the text was printed a picture of an enraged-looking Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

The library was quiet at this time of night, even more so than usual.

Hermione been in there for almost two hours and so far, her diligent search had turned up nothing.

She assumed that was good news.

"Miss Granger," a familiar voice suddenly rang through the dimly lit room. "Might I enquire as to why you're currently lurking around in the Restricted Section and after curfew, no less? You do realize this could cost your House a considerable number of points, don’t you?"

"Yes, Professor, I..." She took a deep breath. Should she or shouldn't she confide in Snape? He was Malfoy's godfather and responsible for Harry's safety. So maybe it was worth taking the risk?

"I was reading up on prophecies, Sir," she finally said.

The man raised an eyebrow. "I see. Any particular kind of prophecy?"

"Um. Mostly about power struggles and the like, Sir."

"I see. So you were hoping to discover whether or not Draco Malfoy will be rising to power anytime soon?"

She nodded slowly. So Snape knew. That would save her some explaining then, at least.

"And pray tell, what have you found out thus far?" the man went on to ask.

"Not a single thing, Sir."

"Ah yes." He smirked. "I expected that might be the case. Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you know about Delirissum?"

"It's a highly potent potion," she replied automatically, "and very difficult to brew. It’s also illegal, has been for over a century, because it can be used for mind-altering purposes and in some cases even mind control by means of hallucinations."

"Correct. Now, Miss Granger, I came here tonight to do some additional research into that potion, hoping to learn more about which hallucinations it can cause and whether or not their nature might be determined beforehand. Seeing neither of us should really be here at this time of night, perhaps it mightn't be such a bad idea if we collaborated?"

Hermione's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. Of all people, Professor Snape wanted _her_ assistance? Had she finally earned the man's respect? Maybe by helping Draco? She couldn't be certain, but nevertheless, she mentally patted herself on the back. She had waited for an opportunity like this for over four years.

A few minutes later, they were both hard at work, hoping to find out just how severely Trelawney's mind could have been messed with.


	39. Reunions

"Keep this up and you can get reacquainted with your hand tonight, Potter."

"Hey!" Harry blushed despite himself. "That's not very nice."

"Neither is distracting me from my work, now shoo!"

"That essay isn't due 'till next week. You're worse than Hermione, Draco."

"I resent that."

Harry grinned. "A whole _hour_ before classes start and you actually choose to spend it doing schoolwork. Such a terrible waste." He snaked his arms around Draco’s shoulders again and planted a trail of kisses along the boy's jaw-line.

"Alright, Potter." Draco threw down his quill in resigned frustration. '"You win."

Harry chuckled mischievously. "You should know by now that I usually do, Malfoy."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but he was soon cut off by a rather amazing kiss. So he decided to let Harry have his little victory; for now.

* * *

Hermione stifled a yawn and walked into the Transfiguration classroom.

She'd spent most of the night in the library, carrying out research with Professor Snape.

The good news was that a lot of progress had been made.

The bad news? The full implications of what they'd discovered weren't exactly pleasant. In fact, this would have been a good time to call in an Auror, had they known one they could actually trust.

"I fear, Miss Granger," Snape had said, before they'd finally parted ways three hours ago, "that we have stumbled upon a rather tangled web here; one we will, sadly enough, have to unravel amongst ourselves."

She sat down and took her books out of her satchel, and as she did so, she couldn't stop thinking about Professor Trelawney.

Now, at least, the teacher's bizarre behaviour made some sense.

How long had that poor woman already been under someone else's control anyway? And who was responsible for all this? And most importantly, how on earth were they ever going to set this right again and give the teacher her life and dignity back?

Yes, there was quite a bit of work still to be done.

She hoped Viktor would understand that there was going to be a significant amount of _library time_ in her immediate future.

* * *

"This is certainly unexpected," Snape said to the visitor entering his office, "and without your little friend too, Lupin?”

"Not as such," came the smug response. It was followed by the flick of a wand and a “Finite Incantatem,” and instantly, the grinning form of Sirius Black appeared.

Snape rolled his eyes. "An Invisibility Spell. I should have realized. And thank you, gentlemen, for your kind consideration. At least this way, there won't be any dog hair or canine odours soiling my immaculate quarters later."

Sirius bit back a laugh. "Always a real pleasure to see you too, Severus."

"So." The Potions professor crossed his arms. "To what do I owe this questionable honour?"

"Ah." Sirius' grin widened even further. "It seems your godson and mine have been getting up to all sorts."

"Indeed," Snape said dryly.

"So, Remus and I thought we'd come over here and take a look for ourselves. See if we might be able to help out, even. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not. The more, the merrier. By all means, make yourselves at home!"

If sarcasm could bounce off the walls, maliciously swinging a large scythe, this would be the part where everyone ran for cover.

* * *

By her standards, the inn was shabby and dismal. Not to mention its high Muggle factor. But at least it was inconspicuous. No one would ever think to come looking for her here.

Since her escape from that horrible place, Bellatrix Lestrange had already learned two things:

Firstly, Lord Voldemort, her beloved Master, was dead. Three people had reportedly been involved in his untimely demise; Harry Potter (_well, that was to be expected_), some Hufflepuff (_how dreadfully embarrassing_) by the name of Diggory and her very own nephew Draco Malfoy (_and to think the boy once showed so much promise_).

Secondly, Lucius Malfoy was missing. Some, mostly those rooting for the Light Side, presumed him dead. The remaining supporters of the Dark Side, on the other hand, considered him a traitor. They even suspected he'd coerced his son into helping Potter in a desperate attempt to redeem himself, or to get into the Ministry’s good books, or most likely both.

Since her exit from that dreadful place, Bellatrix Lestrange had set herself two goals:

Firstly, to avenge her beloved Master. It was high time for that Potter brat to be reunited with the miscreants who'd spawned him.

Secondly, to bring Draco back to his senses. Provided her sister hadn't done so already. The boy was too talented and too much of a potential asset to just give up on.

Tomorrow, when she was sufficiently rested, she'd leave for Hogwarts.

Her contact knew she was coming. She'd been assured an easy passage. It would be a breeze.

* * *

Draco was pretty nervous about meeting Sirius Black.

Sirius was the closest thing to a father figure Harry had ever known, and Draco had no idea how the man would react to his godson dating a Malfoy.

Aside from that, Draco also had a niggling suspicion that Sirius and Narcissa weren't very fond of each other.

His mother had never even mentioned her cousin to him, and even though Sirius was, metaphorically speaking, a rotten and long-discarded branch of The Noble House Of Black family tree, he was still family.

Narcissa keeping quiet about something, or someone, was generally not a good sign.

Fortunately, it turned out that Draco needn't have worried.

In truth, Sirius was very sceptical at first, with Draco's resemblance to Lucius not exactly helping matters; but he soon warmed to the boy.

The obvious bond between him and Harry was impossible to ignore, as was the notable difference in Harry himself... Sirius had never before seen his godson's eyes sparkle like that, and when he looked very carefully, he could see that Draco's eyes held the same light. The boys were obviously good for each other.

At the end of the day, Sirius' only concern was what Malfoy Senior would say if he ever found out about this unlikely relationship.

A little later, Sirius learned that Lucius was no longer in a position to say all that much about anything.


	40. Treacherous Times

"You cannot possibly be serious, Malfoy! Kidnap a teacher and hold her in the dungeons against her free will? Are you trying to get us all _expelled_?"

"Well, if you have a better suggestion on how to sober up the woman and let the effects of months, maybe years, of spiked drink wear off sufficiently, by all means, Granger, let's hear it."

"He does have a point, Hermione," Harry interjected, carefully, not wanting to enrage his bookworm friend even further.

"Fine,” she snapped. "You two do what you feel is necessary. But I'll have you know that, if ever asked, I intend to deny _everything_!"

"Fair enough." Draco shrugged, before fetching Patsy and Vincent.

And so it occurred that, in the small hours of Saturday morning, Sybill Trelawney was ambushed, Stupefied and carried down to the Slytherin quarters, where she would occupy the room at the far end of the north corridor until she was back to her old self again.

Draco carefully locked the door behind him.

* * *

_  
Dearest Narcissa,_

I trust this correspondence finds you well.

A reliable source has informed me that you have sought and found sanctuary at Hogwarts Castle. My contact also told me you refuse to pledge allegiance to Dumbledore, which is most reassuring. I hope this means you are finding the old man’s inevitable pleading easy to resist. As one would, of course. His influence these days can be considered negligible at best, laughable even, if one is permitted to be frank about it.

I was deeply saddened and immensely disappointed to learn of your son's role in our Lord and Master's defeat, however.

I do hope there was some Greater Design behind it all. Or perhaps, the boy was simply misguided? Lucius' influence, I presume? You must recall how I had my reservations about that man from the very beginning. He’s been far too lenient on Draco all along.

No doubt, you have learned by now that I have managed to escape from Azkaban.

I won't go into details of how that was possible, since I presently have plenty to prepare in very limited time, but I will say that I had help from a rather unexpected source. It's heart-warming to discover that, even in these bleak times, loyal friends can be found in the strangest of places.

I believe it would be advisable for you and me to get together soon. Our Lord may no longer be with us, but it remains our Sworn Duty to carry on his Legacy, our Noble Cause. If we play our cards right, sister dearest, Draco may even end up playing a key role.

I will be back in touch very soon with details of a meeting place. You shan't even have to leave Hogwarts grounds, which should make it easier to slip away unnoticed.

With affection,  
Bellatrix Lestrange-Black

  
Snape slowly put the letter down on the table. Narcissa had received it only ten minutes ago. Despite her best efforts to keep a cool and proud demeanour, the woman's distress was blatantly obvious.

"Your sister is taking a very foolish risk if she really intends to come here," Severus said.

He made a point of ignoring Narcissa's discomfort, since he knew only too well that drawing any kind of attention to it would only make her feel even more vulnerable.

"Unless, of course," he added pointedly, "this is in fact some kind of trap."

"What do you suggest we do, Severus?" Narcissa asked. Her voice was steady, much steadier than her hands were at that very moment.

Snape suppressed a deep sigh. Why was everything suddenly crashing down and why, in Salazar's name, was it _his_ head the debris had to land on?

If common sense were to be obeyed, he should call in some Aurors now, shouldn’t he? If Bellatrix did indeed make an appearance, he knew that trying to apprehend her themselves would be sheer insanity; if not possible suicide.

Besides, this was Ministry business.

_Damned Ministry,_ he thought. That was one complication he'd been hoping to avoid.

At that very moment, there was a knock at the door. Blaise Zabini wanted a word. He was accompanied by Alistor Moody.

Severus Snape took a deep breath and, not for the first time in recent weeks, found himself wondering what the career opportunities at Durmstrang were like these days.

* * *

"We've been watching him closely for well over two months now," Moody said, "and what you've just told me about Sybill completes the picture perfectly. All we need now is airtight evidence."

"Well, I'm sure, once she's awake, she'll let us know where she acquired all that sherry."

"I hope you're right, Severus."

"And now?"

"Now, I suggest we call a meeting with everyone we can trust with this matter. It might also be a good time to confront that silly girl with the possible consequences of what she was about to do."

The Potions professor nodded gravely.

* * *

"You're looking exceptionally cheerful this evening, Granger," Cedric Diggory remarked as he caught up with Hermione just outside the hospital wing.

"If all goes well, Viktor will be discharged tomorrow," she said with a broad smile

"Brilliant! And about time too."

She nodded. "Definitely. How's Fleur doing in the meantime?"

"Physically, she seems fine. She's still kind of rattled, though. The aftershock of being attacked, I expect. And she didn't feel too comfortable being here to begin with, so..."

"Yes. She hates the castle, doesn't she?"

"Maybe _hate_ is a bit too strong a word, but she's not very fond of Hogwarts, no."

"So, um, if you don't mind me asking, are you two together now?"

"Well, let's just say I'm working on that,” Cedric replied with a grin.

"Ah."

"How are the Princes of Slytherin, anyway?" he enquired, fast changing the subject, before things got embarrassing.

"Princes of…?" She laughed. "Oh, you mean Harry and Malfoy?"

"The very same."

"Getting along like a house on fire, apparently. Upset by the new developments as well, though."

"New developments? Clearly I missed something."

"Oh, you haven't heard about Trelawney?"

He shook his head. "What about her?"

"She predicted that Draco's going to be the next Dark Lord."

"Yes, that does sound like the kind of crap she'd say."

"You wouldn't believe it, either, then?"

"Merlin, no! Malfoy's an arrogant, vain, egocentric piece of work, but he's no Dark Lord. Just between you and me, he saved my life twice that day in the Maze, although I doubt even Veritaserum would get him to admit as much."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

He nodded. "You said developments, plural. Did anything else happen?"

"Um, well, it seems Trelawney's been drugged, so we're um.. trying to get her back to reality."

"What? _Drugged?_ How? Something tells me I probably don't want to know the specifics, do I?"

She shook her head and grinned. "Better not."

"Well, if you guys ever need my help... You only have to ask."

"Thanks, Cedric, I'll keep that in mind. Viktor offered too, so at least there will be safety in numbers, whatever happens."

He nodded. "You know,” he remarked offhandedly, “I was rather surprised when you hooked up with Krum."

"Why? What's wrong with Viktor?"

"That's not what I meant... It's just... I always thought you'd end up with Ron Weasley, for some reason."

Hermione gave a small smile.

_Funny you should say that, Cedric_, she thought wryly, _so did I._


	41. Bitter Betrayal

The meeting was held in the Room of Requirement.

There was a huge table in the middle, large enough to seat everyone invited.

Presently attending were five adults - Alistor Moody, Severus Snape, Narcissa Malfoy-Black, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black - and a group of students - Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley (who had been most insistent about coming along), Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini and Cedric Diggory.

Some of those students, Ron and Draco in particular, had given each other suspicious looks, initially. And no one except Hermione seemed to know what Cedric was even doing there.

But, all things considered, it was going fairly well.

Nobody had objected to taking an oath to keep Sirius' presence a secret, either. The man was, after all, still considered to be an escaped convict with whom the Ministry wanted to speak rather urgently.

"Right," Snape began. "Allow me, ladies and gentlemen, to get straight to the point. First and foremost, it would appear that Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped from Azkaban and might be making an appearance at Hogwarts in the not too distant future."

Neville shivered and paled visibly at the announcement. Pansy made a mental note to ask him why, later.

"However," the Potions Master went on, “Professor Moody has assured us that the Ministry will be doing their utmost to apprehend Mrs. Lestrange. As such, none of you should concern yourselves with matter. Although, of course, constant vigilance remains, as always, most advisable."

Everyone nodded in agreement, especially Professor Moody.

"Then, let’s turn to the second topic of the today’s agenda." He took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. "We have strong reasons to believe that Professor Trelawney has been the unwitting victim of, to put it simply, magical mind control, over an as yet undetermined period of time. Regrettably, we fear Albus Dumbledore to be behind this."

A few of the students gasped. Hermione opened her mouth. She wanted to protest, say something, _anything_, utter the first plausible alternative she could come up with. Surely, they'd made some kind of mistake? The headmaster would _never_ do anything like this, would he?

Anything she was about to say was promptly cut off when Snape turned his attention to Blaise. "You can fetch the girl now, Mister Zabini."

The boy nodded and left the room.

He returned almost instantly, a tearful Cho Chang in tow.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"Miss Chang," Snape spoke, sounding exceptionally menacing, even to himself, "I believe you have a few things you wish to share with us?"

She bit her trembling lower lip. "Yes, Sir," she managed. He hadn't offered her to sit down, so she remained standing.

"Am I correct in assuming you've been corresponding with Mrs. Lestrange, leaving doors open, lowering Wards, passing on information, spreading questionable rumours about Mister Malfoy and his Housemates?" It wasn't as much a question as an accusation.

She nodded slowly.

"Am I also correct in saying you did all this at the headmaster's request?"

Another nod. She seemed unable to meet his eyes, or look anywhere other than the floor.

"Just out of idle curiosity, Miss Chang, dare I even ask... _why_?"

"I... I," she stammered, "I did what I was instructed to do. He said it was for the Greater Good, so I trusted him. I mean, wouldn't anyone have done?"

"No," Draco suddenly snarled. "Certainly not. Most of us have long grasped that wonderful concept of thinking for oneself. Pray tell, Chang, what the fuck had that Sorting Hat been smoking when it put you in Ravenclaw?"

The girl looked, if possible, even more distraught.

"Draco," Lupin interjected soothingly, "that wasn't exactly called for."

He crossed his arms indignantly. "Like hell it wasn't!"

"Now, Miss Chang," Remus went on, "I suggest you take a seat and tell us precisely what's been happening."

The girl hesitated. Shakily, she sat down.

Snape's already waning patience was starting to wear even thinner. "Come on, child, speak up!" he barked. "You may be too young to be sent to Azkaban, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be _otherwise detained_."

"Yes," Draco added darkly, "Theodore Nott won't be witnessing another sunrise for quite a while yet, either."

"Dumbledore... um... wants Harry gone," she replied.

"Gone?" Draco and Ron parroted in unison.

"Out of the picture. Off to Saint Mungo's could work, finally succumbed to the terrible stress or driven mad by paranoia. Or if everything else failed, _certain sacrifices would regrettably have to be made_..."

"You are having us on!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.

"He said it was for the Greater Good,” she quickly replied to defend herself, “that in view of Harry's childhood and um... new Slytherin connections..."

"Ah yes," Draco remarked, "I was just wondering when we'd get to that part. I hadn't been called EVIL or DARK for, wow, well over fifteen minutes now; couldn't last, really."

"Do go on, Miss Chang," Snape said.

"Um, well, it wasn't just Malfoy... With all the existing similarities between Harry and Tom Riddle... such as both of them having had a bad childhood and being highly talented but with lots of anger at the world... Dumbledore was afraid Harry would rise to become the new Dark Lord."

Draco banged his fist on the table and all but leapt up out of his chair. "Hurray, another new Dark Lord! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hogwarts! I hope you'll enjoy your stay! Please be on the lookout for drugged-up teachers, lethal Tournaments, spying nitwits and do observe our woodwork, which is just bursting at the seams with Dark Lords! The old git has really fucking LOST IT this time, hasn't he?"

"Miss Chang." That was Snape, who decided to ignore his godson's outburst. "Would you be willing to be put under Veritaserum and testify to all this in front of the Wizengamot? I'm quite confident your name will be cleared of all charges once they hear of the manipulating... That and how you're not exactly..." There was no tactful way to say this, none at all. "Well, I doubt Miss Parkinson, Miss Granger or Miss Weasley would have fallen for this nonsense, at any rate."

"Bloody right we wouldn't have!" Ginny loudly agreed.

"Yes, of course, I'll testify, Sir," Cho quickly said. "No problem at all."

"Fine. You are dismissed for now. You will, of course, never mention this meeting to anyone, if you know what's good for you. And in case of any new developments, do inform Mister Zabini straight away."

"Yes, of course, Sir."

At that, she practically ran out of the room.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen," Snape now spoke. "We shall continue as before. As soon as we know when Mrs. Lestrange plans to meet Mrs. Malfoy, the Aurors will do what's necessary."

Alistor Moody nodded in agreement.

"Meanwhile," the Potions professor went on, "Miss Granger and myself will continue our research to help Professor Trelawney regain her sanity of mind faster than she is doing at present. And we also need someone to assist Mister Zabini in keeping an eye on Miss Chang. One wouldn't want the wretched girl to get hurt."

"Not before she can testify anyway,” Pansy remarked, smiled sweetly. Ron couldn't help but grin. Exactly what he'd been thinking, too. Except, of course, Gryffindors didn't say that sort of thing out loud; well, not in public, anyway...

"Any volunteers?" Snape asked.

Ginny eagerly raised her hand, hoping to finally be included, like she felt she should have been from the very start.

"Miss Weasley? Fine with you, Blaise?"

"Sure," he said with a smile.

All students left the meeting in total silence. It had been a lot to absorb in such a short period of time. And no one was looking forward to the inevitable. After all, every single one of them had liked Dumbledore, had trusted the man, to some extent...

It only made his bitter betrayal that much harder to swallow, let alone comprehend.

* * *

In the privacy of Draco's room, Harry finally broke down.

He was very angry, at first. He punched and kicked a wall, all the while shouting insults and accusations, aimed at no one in particular, but mostly at the whole of Hogwarts in general.

There were no tears. Not just yet.

Draco stood by and said or did nothing, initially. He just let Harry vent his rage, as this was obviously what the other boy needed to do.

But then the intense violence started to worry him. So he stepped closer, grabbed one of Harry's wrists, spun him around and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"No more of that! You'll hurt yourself." The words came out a little harsher than intended, but perhaps that wasn't a bad thing.

"I. Don't. Fucking. Care," Harry spat. He tried to free himself from his boyfriend's grip, but failed. Grief and fatigue were slowly getting the better of him.

"But _I_ care, Harry," Draco said softly. "You've been harmed more than enough."

At that, the tears finally started to flow.

"Come on, love."

Harry felt himself being led to the bed. Then he was sitting down and Draco's arms were around him once more.

The anger had left him now. Only sadness and a crushing sensation of defeat remained.

"I still can't believe it," he choked out. "All the lies and deceit. All those years... of... Why didn't they just leave me where I was?"

"I don't know, Harry." And he didn't. He wondered how these people even slept at night. And this was supposedly the Light Side, too? Draco would have laughed bitterly at the irony of the situation, had it not been for the sobbing boy in his arms.

"I trusted Dumbledore when I was eleven. He was so kind, so... cool, I suppose, too. After a while, I knew he was using me as a pawn for The Light. Obviously, we've been over that a thousand times. But still, he rescued me. But knowing what we do now, he obviously didn't. I thought he at least cared, on some level. But he'd just have me..."

"Indeed."

They sat like that for a long time, until Harry finally stopped crying.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think would have happened, had I been sorted into Slytherin instead?"

Draco didn't answer immediately. Briefly, he thought about the dream he'd had not so long before the final Task. But who believed in dreams, anyhow? Dreams and visions were for the likes of Trelawney and just look where they had landed her.

"I think, Harry," he eventually replied. "Had you been in Slytherin, then your world wouldn't currently be in pieces. Snape would have figured all this out ages ago."

Harry nodded. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the other boy's shoulder.

"Draco," he whispered, "do you ever feel like... life fucking hurts and you really want to hurt it back?"

"I used to," he replied honestly.

"What did you do? How did you make it stop?"

He sighed. "I think the worst pain ended the night I killed my father."

The room fell silent then, save for the ticking of the antique clock and the sound of two hearts beating.


	42. Collecting The Pieces

They spent more and more time down by the lake these days.

Draco could imagine much nicer things to do before dinner. The chilly, windy weather didn't make him too happy either. But being there seemed to give Harry a sense of peace, so he tagged along. And admittedly, something had to be said, as well, for all the funny looks random passersby gave them.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy sitting on a bench, holding hands, occasionally kissing… It wasn't the kind of thing anyone expected to see during their late afternoon stroll, regardless of the little _Voldemort detail_ that had gone before.

At times, though, Draco worried that these public displays of affection weren't exactly wise; especially with Dumbledore up to all sorts and Bellatrix still at large.

But in the end, his concern for Harry's fragile emotional state always won out.

When they'd learned the truth about the headmaster, something inside Harry had snapped. Draco wasn't certain whether he'd ever be able to piece it back together again, but Malfoys didn't give up that easily. He was determined to figure out the right solution, and while he was at it, he had every intention of making that old bastard pay dearly for this, too.

* * *

Very carefully, Harry snuck out of bed.

Once again, he'd been unable to get back to sleep. He could wake Draco now, of course, just like he'd done the past few nights, but he felt bad about disturbing the boy, who had to be extremely exhausted as well.

Life wasn't fair, really. They were only fourteen. They should be having fun, doing things teenagers do, without having to deal with horrors such as these.

Harry sighed.

The old grandfather clock struck two.

As quietly as he could, he walked out of the room. Maybe one of the Slytherins was still awake and up for a round of chess, or a chat about nothing in particular. Pansy regularly had all-night study sessions in the Common Room as well.

During the course of the past few weeks, Harry had really grown to appreciate Draco's best friend.

In some ways, Pansy wasn't very different from Hermione, he'd discovered; loyal, intelligent, fiercely protective of her loved ones...

Of course, she was also considerably more vain than his bookworm friend, and the girl probably wouldn't know tact if it tapped her on the shoulder and politely but insistently asked her to pay attention, but at least she didn't mollycoddle him; no matter how wretched he migh look. He could only respect her for that.

As for the other Slytherins...

With Nott _otherwise detained_, there didn't seem to be any real problems anymore. Most of Draco's housemates were civil, if not friendly, to him.

He wasn't sure why. Perhaps, he'd overestimated Slytherin's supposed loyalty to Voldemort? Either that, or people were simply too scared of what Snape might have up his sleeve for them if they stepped out of line. The Slytherin Head of House was looking more menacing than usual lately and that was really saying something.

"Harry?"

He turned around and found himself standing face to face with Hermione. She was carrying an impressive stack of books.

"Hey." He smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Research with Professor Snape, remember? We thought his office would be less conspicuous than the library, especially at this time of night."

He nodded. "So, how's it going?"

"We're slowly making progress. And Viktor helped too this afternoon." She seemed very proud of that last part.

"Oh?"

"They teach Dark Arts at Durmstrang, you know," she whispered in an almost conspiratorial fashion.

"Yeah, Draco said as much."

"I shouldn't really admit to this, but some of that stuff is rather fascinating,” she said and added quickly, “From a purely academic point of view, of course."

"Careful, Granger," a familiar voice drawled behind them. "The walls have ears. And you wouldn't want to be pegged as the new Dark Lord - or in your case, Dark Lady, now, would you?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Oh. Hello, Draco."

"And as for you, Potter," he went on, his light hearted, teasing tone only partly concealing how worried he actually was. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Right," Draco said in a voice that left no room for argument. "We're going to see Snape for a potion. You just came from there, didn’t you, Granger?"

She nodded.

"Good, then he'll still be up. Goodnight and sweet dreams, Granger. And come along, Potter." He grabbed Harry's hand and almost dragged the boy to Snape's quarters.

There would be restful, dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

"Ah, such exciting days Miss Chang has," Blaise remarked, as he read the detailed report.

"Heh. Exciting for a corpse, maybe."

He grinned. "You read my mind, Miss Weasley."

"I do have a first name, you know, _Blaise_."

Frowning, he ventured a guess. "Um... Minnie?"

"Ginny," she corrected.

"Right. Sorry about that."

"No problem. You know, I've been thinking."

“Go on.”

"You know what would be really good?"

"No," he said teasingly, "but I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

"Well, if we could actually track down more of that sherry, or a letter, or a receipt, or well, anything like that, some item that could tell us where the spiked booze came from, then we wouldn't have to wait for Trelawney to wake up. That would be helpful, right?"

"Yes. And...?"

"Well, there might be something like that in her rooms, I'm thinking."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting, Miss Wea- sorry, _Ginny_, that we sneak up to Trelawney's living quarters at three in the morning and start rummaging around?"

She gave a small smile. "Erm, yes?"

Blaise stood up, a wide grin on his face. "Okay, then. After you..."

* * *

At the break of dawn, the long-awaited second letter arrived.

Aurors were notified.

A plan was set in motion.

It was just a matter of time now.


	43. Meeting Mrs. Lestrange

Nervously, Draco paced the Slytherin Common Room. "What the fuck is keeping those Aurors?" he asked, irritation and anxiety dripping from his every word. "They should have arrived here ages ago."

"I'm starting to suspect Dumbledore of putting up more Wards once Lestrange was inside," Remus Lupin said grimly. He had a dark expression on his face.

"WHAT?" Draco yelled. "Right. I have to go out there immediately."

"Draco..." Remus grabbed the boy by the arm. "Professor Snape went after Narcissa. Between ourselves, we can handle it."

"Fuck, Lupin, that’s _my_ mother who is out there!" He shook his arm free. "Like it or not, I'm coming with you."

"So am I," Harry stated defiantly.

"Not without your two best friends, you're not," Ron said as he walked in with Hermione.

"You told them, Nev?" Harry asked.

The boy just nodded.

"Well," Pansy began, "if they're going, I'm certainly not staying behind, either."

"Ditto," Neville said.

She eyed him worriedly. "Are you absolutely sure, love, after what that horrible bitch did to your parents?"

"Yes, Pans, I'd say that's all the more reason for me to get involved, wouldn't you?"

"Alright." Now she turned towards the large boy next to her on the sofa. "You coming, Vince?"

"Sure, whatever you say, Pans."

"And me." That was Ginny. She was sitting in the corner with Blaise, going through some of the paperwork they'd brought back from Trelawney's office last night.

"No, Gin!" Ron protested. "You're far too young to get..."

"Oh, piss off, Ron! I can take care of myself!"

"That, she can," Blaise said. He'd come to like and respect the fierce redhead in the past twenty-four hours. She was brave, intelligent and didn't mince words for anyone. He grinned when Ron threw his hands up in despair and he added, "And I'll be tagging along too, of course."

"So, um, everyone's going?" Lupin asked, a little unnecessarily.

There were nods all around.

"Right, then," Draco spoke. "Let's not waste any more precious time, shall we?"

* * *

Fabricated laughter rang through the courtyard. "And in time, Narcissa, your son will have acquired all the skills needed to take Lord Voldemort's place. He'll be a fair leader; intelligent, capable and not ruled by his emotions."

"That does sound like a most marvellous plan, dear sister." Narcissa smiled sweetly. She wondered when the promised Ministry help would finally arrive.

"Then what are we still waiting for? Let us go and fetch Draco and deal with that annoying Potter boy for once and for all!"

"Looking for me, Mrs. Lestrange?"

She turned around. "Sweet little Harry." The look on her face was nothing short of predatory and her smile venomous. "How thoughtful of you to come and join us, instead. Now let's get this over with, shall we, sweetheart? Any last requests before I kill you?"

"None of us are dying here tonight, Bellatrix," a man spoke, stepping out of the shadows.

She sneered. "Remus Lupin. My, my, what a happy reunion this is turning out to be! And how lovely, a halfbreed and a halfwit, two for the effort of one. I'm _really_ going to enjoy this."

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled.

Bellatrix didn't move a fraction. "Stupid, stupid little boy," she mocked. She aimed her wand squarely at Harry and shouted, "Tomblures!"

The Gryffindor slumped down to the ground, temporarily paralysed.

A few yards away, Pansy held Draco back. "It's only a stunning spell," she whispered. "He'll be fine."

Reluctantly, he lowered his wand again and sat back down.

"Stop that!" Narcissa said sternly. "Pick on someone your own size, Bella!"

"What? Defending that treacherous, Mudblood-loving menace, now, are you? I should have known you'd cave in. You were always the weak one, weren't you, Cissy? So you want to fight me now, do you, dear sister?" There was more artificial laughter. "Rather out of your league, though, wouldn't you agree?"

"Cissa... don't," Snape warned.

The woman ignored him and drew her wand. "We shall see."

"Very well." Bellatrix sneered. "It's your funeral, my dear." She walked a few steps closer to her sister and cast a magical shield around them both, so no other magic would have a chance of interfering

During what to some onlookers seemed like an eternity, curses were sent back and forth, until Narcissa's wand finally flew to the ground. She ran to pick it up, but before she could reach it, Bellatrix cast an impressive Crucio.

The blonde woman fell to her knees, clutching at her stomach in pain.

"Fuck! Mother!" Draco yelled. He leapt up from behind the bushes where he and his fellow students had been hiding. Gripping his wand tightly, he frantically looked around. "We should be able to do _something_!"

"This is a witches' duel. Trying to break it up may have grave magical repercussions," Hermione stated, obviously quoting something - or someone.

Unsurprisingly, her statement earned her a round of death glares.

"Keep spewing that kind of drivel, Granger, and there will be repercussions of the non-magical sort," Pansy snarled, "and besides, we're bloody Slytherins! We don't play fair. Think fast, people, before that bitch strikes again!"

"Up there," Neville suggested. He pointed at the large statue on the garden wall.

"Yes, of course," Ron said. "Magic and living beings can't penetrate that shield, but inanimate objects can. If we levitate that thing... and then let it drop... Brilliant thinking, Nev!"

"Granger? GRANGER!" Pansy shrieked. "Spell?"

"Well, Wingardium Leviosa ought to work. Even though that statue is hardly a feather."

"Tsk, Parkinson." Blaise grinned. "We learned that one in first year."

"Shove it, Zabini, that was three years ago! Some of us have lives!" Pansy shot back. "So... everyone ready? Let's do it."

Eight wands went up simultaneously.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"

Just as she was about to hit her sister with another curse, Bellatrix stopped dead in her tracks. She heard a strange, ominous sound behind and then above her. She looked up. Her eyes widened in horror, but before she could think, let alone act, everything went black. The heavy statue landed right on top of her. After the crash, its lion head was still in tact and bore a wide grin.

Snape shook his head. He was mildly amused at the sight, but he didn't think it in particularly good taste to award Housepoints to Gryffindor.

The magic shield disintegrated at Bellatrix's final breath. Draco, Remus and Snape rushed to Narcissa's side.

"Mother!" Draco knelt down and grabbed her hand. "Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. "I'll be fine, Draco... Is Bella... really... dead?"

He briefly glanced to his right. All he could see was a pile of rubble with a pair of legs sticking out from under it. "Yeah, I'd say she's gone and joined her beloved Master now."

"And long may they rot," another voice said.

"Harry." Draco smiled as the boy sat down beside him. "You okay?"

He nodded. "I feel a little foolish and upset that I couldn't do anything to help, but..."

"Don't worry, love," Narcissa whispered reassuringly. "That was a vicious Tomblures she threw at you, with a lot of deeply-rooted hatred behind it."

"Yeah," Draco said, "it was."

Harry gave them a small smile.

"Right then," Snape now spoke. "Let's get Mrs. Malfoy and Mister Potter to the hospital wing."

"No!" Harry protested. "I'm staying with Draco! I can recuperate just as well in his room, if not better."

The Potions professor rolled his eyes and sighed. "Very well, Mister Potter, as you wish. Have it your way, making things difficult for everyone once again. Mister Zabini, Mister Crabbe, Mister Weasley, lend a hand here, would you?"

"Um, Professor Snape?" Hermione said, gesturing towards the five men that were approaching at a swift pace.

"Well, well, well." He smirked. "What have we here? The Ministry officials have finally decided to grace us with their presence. How wonderful!" He waved a hand in the general direction of Bellatrix's remains and addressed the Aurors. "I trust you know what to do?"

The man who appeared to be the highest ranking of the lot gulped and then he nodded.

"Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse us, gentlemen... We have other matters to attend to."

At that, he stalked off into the castle, closely followed by Remus, Narcissa and the students.

* * *

"Hey." Harry smiled. He was back in Draco's room, resting. The after-effects of the spell were wearing off, but he still felt pretty weak. Snape had given him a vile-tasting potion earlier and ordered him to stay in bed for the next two days. The Gryffindor had been in no frame of mind to contradict or complain.

"Harry." Draco went over to the bed and sat down, taking the other boy's hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. A little groggy, but that's to be expected, I guess. How's your mum?"

"No worse for wear, thank goodness. She only has to stay in the infirmary overnight too."

"That's good news."

"Yes, it is."

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry for being so bloody useless earlier."

"Don't worry, Harry. Like Mother said, it was a vicious spell."

"It wasn't that paralyzing when _we_ used it, though."

"Well... Contrary to popular opinion, we're not evil, either, are we? That's the thing with Dark Arts, you see. You have to truly mean it when you want to hurt someone."

"In that case..." He tried to make a joke of it. "Your aunt really meant it."

"I suppose she did."

"Draco? Would you... Would you hold me?"

"Sure." He kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around Harry. "Now you have to try and get some sleep," he whispered, kissing the other boy's cheek.

"Hm. Is Sirius still with Trelawney?"

"Yeah. He's been there all day. She still hasn't woken up, though. Oh, and this might amuse you, or piss you off all over again. Rumour has it that Dumbledore was ever so shocked that Bellatrix Lestrange had managed to worm her way into Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'll bet!" Harry snorted.

"He even told the Aurors that he feared there might be a mole amongst his staff. Care to guess who was implicated?"

"Shit!" Harry's eyes widened. "He didn't?"

"He most certainly did. Snape was raging furious. Just as well that Moody also knows the truth. I'd hate to think, given Severus' past, what might have happened otherwise.”

"Yeah. Rotten bastard."

They were silent now. Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair, as the other boy snuggled closer.

It didn't take long before they were both asleep, exhausted from the day's events and all the anxiety that had gone before.

Meanwhile, up in his office, an old wizard was fast running out of options.


	44. A New Ally

Severus Snape was not a happy man. In fact, it would be correct to say that his train of thought had left Rage Station, passed straight through Despair Junction and was fast approaching Wits' End.

Not only were the dungeons he considered to be his very own territory currently overrun with assorted uninvited guests - of the Gryffindor, Animagus, werewolf, escaped convict and kidnapped professor variety, and out of all of those, he wasn't even sure which was the least desirable option anymore; he also had an even graver problem to contend with now.

During these past few years, he'd taken a lot of foolish risks by infiltrating Voldemort's Inner Circle, spying for Dumbledore, attending a frightening amount of gruesome Death Eater meetings, just for the sake of always keeping informed and staying one step ahead.

And how had that conniving old coot shown his gratitude for all of this, today?

By implying that Severus had been a follower of the Dark Side right from the very start, by accusing him of being responsible for sloppy security; and all that in front of Ministry officials, no less.

The Potions professor shook his head and purposefully strode towards the Durmstrang guests' temporary lodgings.

His old acquaintance Karakoff still owed him a favour.

The time had come to collect.

* * *

When Draco woke up, Harry was snuggled up against him, sleeping soundly.

The Slytherin looked at the clock. Half past nine. So they had missed dinner and for some reason, no one had thought it necessary to come down and see if they'd wanted anything to eat, either.

Well, no matter. He wasn't particularly hungry anyway and if needed, he could always ask Vince to sneak over to the kitchens later.

He closed his eyes again.

These past few days had been entirely too intense and exhausting for anyone's good. He couldn't help but wonder whatever fate awaited them next.

On the bright side, Voldemort was dead; as were the Dark Lord's second and third in command, Lucius and Bellatrix respectively. And any other Death Eaters truly worth reckoning with were presently locked up in Azkaban, courtesy of some very fruitful Ministry raids.

But that, sadly, was where the good news ended.

Dumbledore remained a great cause for concern. There was no telling what the old man still had in store for them.

One thing was pretty much certain, though. Even with Bellatrix out of the picture, this wasn't over. Draco was fully convinced that the manipulative bastard wouldn't rest until Harry had lost his mind, or his life, or possibly both.

And in the meantime, to everyone's chagrin and disappointment Trelawney still hadn't woken up, either.

Initially, they'd all been very surprised when Snape's Fortified Calming Draught had caused her to fall into a deep sleep. But then a dusty old book from the Restricted Section had revealed that one of the possible symptoms of Delirissum withdrawal was a near-comatose state that would lift itself in time.

How much time, exactly, wasn't yet known. And at this point, they still hadn't discovered a way to speed up the process. either, which was highly unfortunate. Not just for the Divination professor, herself, but also because her voice in all this, anything at all that she might possibly tell them about the origins of that dodgy sherry, could be just the piece of evidence they needed to have an actual case against the headmaster.

Presently, though, there was nothing they could do; except wait, worry and watch their backs.

"Constant vigilance," Professor Moody had said, and repeated a couple of times just for good measure.

Draco had every intention of taking that advice to heart. He'd make sure Harry did, too.

His thoughts drifted back to Dumbledore and he let out a deep sigh.

"Hey," he suddenly heard a voice whisper next to his ear. “Everything alright?"

"Harry." Draco opened his eyes and smiled. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Hm, only just. Something troubling you?"

"The usual." He tried to keep his voice light. "Daft old wizards, deadly ploys, dangerous potions, my gorgeous boyfriend and his potentially lethal, not to mention bloody infuriating, hero complex."

Harry gave a small smile.

"So, Potter, sleep well?"

"Yeah. Like a log." He reached over to the nightstand for his glasses. "Seriously, though, Draco, nothing's wrong, is there?"

"I was just thinking about our current situation."

"Hm." Harry was silent for a moment. Then he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, "At least we got rid of another threat."

"That, we did."

Harry moved a little closer and lifted a hand to stroke Draco's cheek. Draco smiled and gently pulled the other boy on top of him and kissed his nose.

"Do you reckon," Harry whispered, "that anyone will want to come in here tonight?"

This earned him a mischievous grin. "I doubt it. They seemed perfectly happy to let us starve, earlier, so I see no reason why they should barge in now. Why, got something planned, do you, Potter?"

He chuckled. "I might have."

"You know," Draco said in a mock-serious tone as he began to unbutton Harry’s pajama top, “technically, you should be resting now; after having been hit with a powerful spell and all that."

"Technically, yes, but we can still do that later."

"Much later," Draco agreed and before he turned his full attention to Harry again, he quickly cast a strong locking charm on their door, just in case.

* * *

"This should work," Igor Karakoff stated, putting down his quill. "It's not an instant solution by any means, for which I do apologize. It will need two weeks to brew. But when she swallows it, she'll be awake within twelve hours."

"Any possible side-effects?" Snape enquired, picking up the parchment and scanning its contents carefully.

"Normally not," was the response. “In some rare cases, it might cause some dizziness or mild nausea, but nothing too terrible."

The Potions professor nodded. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Karakoff said. "After all, if this truly is a conspiracy like you say, whoever's responsible for drugging your colleague is indirectly behind the assault on Viktor Krum also. Such an outrage! Our boy would have won, you know."

"Indeed," Snape said, humouring the other man.

The truth of the matter was that if Severus had been the kind of person who'd involve himself with something as embarrassingly common as gambling, his money would have been on Harry Potter.

Actual talent and skill aside, that boy possessed an incredible amount of luck that tended to see him through practically anything.

Right now, the Potions professor could only hope that this luck would hold out for at least another two weeks.


	45. Apprehensive Anticipation

The week that followed turned out to be one of the most stressful Harry had experienced in his entire life.

Every single day, first thing in the morning, he was summoned to Dumbledore's office.

During their little chats, the headmaster endeavoured to find out a few things the Gryffindor was most reluctant to share.

The details of Voldemort's defeat, for one. How had they vanquished the Dark Lord, exactly? What about Draco Malfoy's involvement? Why had that boy even been present in the first place?

Then, there was the matter of Bellatrix Lestrange. Had Harry known she'd be coming to Hogwarts? Did he see much of her sister these days? How did Narcissa Malfoy act towards him?

And finally, of course, came the questions about Draco himself. The headmaster seemed very keen to learn how they were getting along now that they were both staying in the Slytherin section. His keenness very obviously didn't stem from a desire for more House Unity, either.

It cost Harry a lot of magical energy and nearly all his willpower, but in the end, he didn't reveal one single thing.

He was extremely grateful for all those mental blocking spells his boyfriend had taught him. Perhaps, he'd never be able to master Occlumency at a satisfactory level, but fortunately, the alternatives he could manage worked just as well.

Every one of Dumbledore's attempts to read his mind failed, and there were plenty. He could feel them. They were just like the beginning of one of those headaches he got as a small child, when he'd been staring at the sun for too long.

As soon as the old wizard was done firing off questions, in the most tactful of ways, of course, and never without an offering of sweets, he voiced a number of concerns.

Most of them were - rather unsurprisingly, Harry thought - about Draco.

"Remember, my dear boy, he's still a Malfoy. His father, even though missing at present, is a well-known supporter of The Dark Side. Draco's own political views are as yet unclear, but let us not forget the predictions made by professor Trelawney, recently. And on the subject of your Divination teacher..."

Harry could hardly believe his own ears when Snape was again pegged a possible traitor or when Dumbledore suggested that Trelawney's disappearance might be part of some grand Death Eaters' scheme.

"After all, it would be in their best interest to keep the Prophecy a secret."

Harry resisted the urge to ask which prophecy the old man was referring to, exactly. The one where Draco became the new Dark Lord, or that other one, where none other than the once-saviour of the wizarding world, himself would end up leading that same world to its doom?

Instead, he just smiled, nodded and said "Yes, Sir" whenever it seemed appropriate to do so.

When the Gryffindor was finally dismissed, he left the office feeling angry, nauseous, worn out and above all, thoroughly defeated.

On the whole, Harry found that deceit didn't agree with him, be it other people's or his own. Upon reflection, he'd probably have made a rather pathetic excuse for a Slytherin after all.

* * *

On the second day of what they'd begun to refer to as The Wizard Inquisitions, a very distressed Draco, who could only make sarcastic jibes about this for so long, before he felt a strong urge to hex someone, preferably Dumbledore, into another dimension, confided in his mother.

Narcissa, subsequently and very understandably, lost her temper.

It was a fairly spectacular event that ended up costing Hogwarts a mirror, a china tea set and two large antique vases.

As soon as she'd regained some of her composure, she stormed down to Snape's office and told him to without any further ado brew all and any potions _her_ boys might need.

He had neither the heart nor the courage to refuse.

* * *

Ron, Hermione and Viktor had taken to spending time in Draco's quarters every evening; mostly because the Sytherin section was just about the safest place in the castle right now, in terms of avoiding any possible eavesdropping and headmaster interference.

Usually, Ron, Hermione and Harry chatted on the bed, sharing the latest news - and gossip - about the Gryffindor side of life, while Draco and Viktor sat on the sofa, discussing Quidditch, Durmstrang and, to a lesser extent, the appeal of Dark Arts classes.

Initially, things between Ron and Draco were still very strained; a lack of trust lingered on both sides, especially Ron's. But at least the two of them could be in the same room now without instantly launching into a verbal brawl.

Harry supposed they had to start somewhere.

Then, on Thursday night, rather unexpectedly, things changed.

At half past nine, Viktor and Hermione left for the library, like they always did. And as soon as the door had closed behind them, Ron let out a deep sigh, a large frown now clouding his features.

This too, was fast becoming the norm.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Weasley!" Draco exclaimed, slamming the heavy book he'd just picked up down again for effect. "Tell the girl now! I really can't stand much more of this."

Harry grinned. He'd been expecting a similar outburst for a while. Ever since this arrangement had started, in fact.

"Huh?" Ron feigned puzzlement but he was fast betrayed by the sudden, furious blush that crept up his cheeks.

"Oh, please." Draco smirked. "Don't take me for a fool, Weasley! It's written all over your freckled face. Tell Granger you fancy her, you blithering idiot! Before someone else does it for you."

"Um," Ron stammered, "But she's with Viktor... and... and…"

Then it suddenly occurred to him that it was in fact _Malfoy_ he was talking to, and he honestly shouldn't be having this type of conversation with Malfoy. Because, well, Malfoy was an evil and foul git, wasn't he? Even if he was currently shacked up with Harry and hadn't been a Death Eater in training after all, the fact remained that he was still Draco sodding Malfoy, feeble ferret, arrogant arsehole, stuck-up snake….

Anger instantly replaced Ron's earlier embarrassment. "Well, this is really none of your damned business anyway, Malfoy," he spat, "so piss off!"

"You're right." Draco sneered. "Technically, this is none of my business. However, that's never stopped me from poking my nose into things before, so why let it now? And incidentally, I cannot _piss off_, as you so eloquently put it, Weasley, since we are currently in my room. So either _piss off_ yourself or allow me to tell you a few simple truths instead."

"Knock yourself out!" Ron sneered back, crossing his arms. "We could all do with a good laugh."

"Right then," Draco began, looking rather smug. “Your friend Granger. I'm guessing she'll want to settle down after her studies. Nice cozy house, good career, pop out a few kids, that sort of thing. However, would she ever be able to make that come true with someone who's dead set on becoming a fulltime professional Quidditch player, constantly training and touring the world? Doubtful, I'd say. She'd probably give it a try for a few years, because she's too stubborn and loyal for her own good. She might even follow him around the globe, but it wouldn't work, in the long run. Because what she needs, Weasley, even if she doesn't realize it yet, is someone reliable and completely unambitious. Someone, who, in essence, wants the simple joys of life; who can support her and give her the attention she needs, while she knocks the socks off her employer and raises a bunch of bushy-haired brats. And that's where you come in.”

"Unambitious? Simple?" Ron frowned. "Right. Cheers. Thanks a bloody lot! Well, I guess we can't all be devious and full of ourselves and..."

"He does have a point," Harry cut in. "I don't think Hermione and Viktor are going to last much longer than this school year, frankly."

"You don't?" Ron suddenly looked very hopeful. "But still, I doubt she'd ever feel the same way about me, Harry, I mean..."

"Merlin's beard!" Draco shouted exasperatedly. "Is he always this THICK?"

"I am not THICK," came the irritated response.

"Look, Weasley, take it from someone who knows, every minute wasted is one too many."

Ron raised his eyebrows. Then he looked at Harry, who just nodded in agreement. "Fine," he finally said. "If you're such a bleeding expert, Malfoy, then why don't you tell me what I'm supposed to do, huh?"

"It would be my pleasure." Draco grinned.

Harry leaned back and with wide eyes, watched the unusual display before him. Then he pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

No, it appeared he wasn't. His boyfriend and his best friend were actually discussing strategies on how to win Hermione Granger's heart. So far, the two showed no signs of wanting to kill each other either.

Harry wondered if this signaled a new beginning or the end of the world.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, during what was supposedly to be a study period, Cho Chang invited herself over.

Harry wasn't exactly pleased to see her, while Draco was mostly intrigued, in a train wreck sort of way.

At first, Cho was full of dramatic apologies.

Harry accepted them all. He hated it when other people felt bad. Besides, they were all suffering from enough stress already, so he figured spite would be highly inappropriate under these circumstances.

Unfortunately, though, the girl mistook Harry's politeness for genuine concern and started to complain about her problems.

Draco soon decided this was rather worse than a train wreck.

"I was only trying to help," she sobbed, "and now they ALL hate me. They glare suspiciously and angrily at me in class and in the corridors and in the library, and it's affecting my studies and I was only doing what I thought was right."

"Of course you were," Harry said, as soothingly as he could possibly manage.

"And Cedric dumped me too. He's with Fleur Delacour now."

"Were you two even together?" Draco asked, genuinely confused.

"He took me to the Yule Ball, so a relationship was implied. What does that uppity French tart have that I lack, anyway?"

Draco briefly considered writing the wretched girl a list, but he soon decided against it, since it probably wouldn't help with the crying. So he just shrugged instead and when she was finally gone, he turned to Harry. "You had a thing for her once, didn't you?"

"What? How did you know?" he asked, both astonished and embarrassed.

"Pansy told me. She'd overheard some Ravenclaws talking about how you'd tried to ask Chang to the ball and failed rather spectacularly."

"Oh fuck." Harry blushed.

"Yeah, they had quite the laugh at your expense, apparently."

"Ugh."

"And I have to admit..." Draco was grinning now "I was mildly amused, myself."

"Oh, I'll bet!"

"You know, Potter, all things considered, and I'm not just talking out of personal interest here, it's a very good thing indeed that you decided to _seek for the other team_, as it were."

Harry eyed him quizzically. "Really? How so?"

"Well, for starters," Draco said dryly, "if what I saw just now was any indication, your taste in girls was positively appalling."

Harry found he couldn't really disagree with that.

* * *

By the end of the week, Dumbledore abandoned trying to question Harry. He was baffled at the boy's continued silence and at how Legilimency failed every single time. But no matter, he'd just have to resort to other methods instead.

Meanwhile, down in the dungeons, everyone waited for Trelawney to wake up.

At least seven more days to go. It felt like an eternity.


	46. Through The Eyes Of The Seer

"Oi, Blaise!" Ginny shouted to her companion at the other side of the room, as she waved an oversized notebook in the air. "Look what I've found!" She wore the expression of someone who'd just struck a pot of gold.

"What's that?" he asked and walked over, his interest instantly piqued.

"Believe it or not, it's Trelawney's journal!"

"Seriously?" He raised his eyebrows. "Where did that still come from? I thought we'd already turned this place upside down and inside out?”

"I pulled it out from under her mattress just now."

"Ah. And we hadn't looked there before, because...?"

"Um, it was too obvious?" She gave a goofy grin.

"Possibly." Blaise grinned back. "So, is it of any use?"

"Hell, yes! It has _lots_ more entries than you'd expect from a book this size and what's even better, they start in 1990."

"What's so special about 1990?"

"That's one year before Harry arrived at Hogwarts." She handed him the diary. "Read the second entry, go on!"

"Oh dear." He smirked. "Don't tell me she didn't even bother to charm it?"

Ginny shook her head. "No Wards."

"All the better for us, then."

Blaise sat himself down on the bed. He opened the journal and began to read. Over his shoulder, Ginny read along.

  
_  
Coping without magic is strange. I constantly shift between anxious and calm, while part of me feels nothing but gratitude for the silence._

Finally, some peace and quiet. No more voices from the dead or from those who are not yet living. No more nightmares of terrible things destined to happen.

Albus promised me that I can stay here for as long as is needed. He even kindly offered me a teaching position. But what can I teach when my powers have left me?

Will they ever return? What will come next?

I'm afraid. I'm worried. I'm terribly confused. Who'd have thought a clear head would be so unsettling?

  
"Trelawney lost her magic?" Blaise remarked, his eyes wide. "Did I read that correctly?"

"That's how I understand it too," Ginny agreed.

"Ruddy hell!"

He turned his attention back to the diary and flipped the page.

  
_Albus often invites me over for tea. He tries to lift my spirits and it is highly appreciated._

He keeps talking regularly about Harry Potter as well, though; that little boy who survived the killing curse. He tells me that he will be studying here next year.

I always believed that the Potter child was nothing more than a legend. It seems he was raised by Muggles. I wonder why Albus thinks it wise to bring him back into our world. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were to return, to take care of unfinished business, wouldn't it be safer for Harry to remain where he is? Surely, the Dark Lord would make it his first priority to hunt him down?

Albus tells me another boy will be coming too. The dark to Harry's light. The one that will lead him to total ruin. Whatever that might mean. So again, I find myself wondering, if there are so many threats that await the Potter child here, why not leave him in the safe ignorance of his Muggle existence?

It's rather mindboggling. Or perhaps, my mind is no longer as sharp as it was and without magic, even simple logic appears hard to master.

On a personal note, I suspect I'm drinking more than I should, but the silence in my head is getting far too loud now to handle it in any other way.

  
"The dark to Harry's light," Blaise thought out loud. "She's not referring to Malfoy there, is she?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe."

He skipped a few pages.

  
_If I didn't know better than to speak ill of the man who's shown me so much kindness and generosity, I might suspect Albus to be overly preoccupied with the Dark Lord at present. He keeps mentioning Tom Riddle. Then he talks about Harry Potter and parallels between the two._

I've heard it all went wrong when Tom was sorted into Slytherin. That had brought out the worst in his ambitious nature and turned him into a power-hungry fiend. Albus doesn't want Harry Potter in Slytherin. He fears history might repeat itself.

If Slytherin House is indeed a House of evil, why do we keep it open at all? There are so many aspects of Hogwarts that I just don't understand.

Am almost out of sherry too.

  
"Sherry, even then," Ginny observed.

"Slytherin bashing too," Blaise pointed out. "Next!"

  
_I had a vision this morning. My first in months. It was about the Potter boy. He was playing Quidditch. He seemed a little young to be doing that, though. He was only twelve, eleven at most. We'd never have a seeker that young, surely? Wouldn't that be terribly unwise?_

But it was still a vision, nonetheless. So am I finally getting better?

"Huh? When was that written?"

"August 1991"

"A month before Harry had even arrived?"

"That's what it looks like. Here, the next one skips right to October."

  
_Albus seems pleased. I'm puzzled. It's not like him, to be happy about hostility between students. And such fierce rivalry between two so young is rarely seen. Why isn't anyone stepping in?_

For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, this whole thing worries me.

I wonder if that means anything significant, but it's dreadfully hard to think clearly these days.

Severus wants a word about my drinking habits. I fail to see how this concerns him. He's such a horribly unpleasant man.

  
"Rivalry and hostility," Blaise said. "That sounds like some people we know."

"Oh yeah. What's the most recent entry?"

He turned to the last written page.

"Here we are. It dates back a few weeks ago. Let's see what it says."

  
_Finding it harder to focus.  
Confusing visions.  
Draco Malfoy turning into The Dark Lord turning into Harry Potter.  
These images are messing with my head.  
Sometimes, I regret regaining my powers.  
Even the stronger sherry doesn't help anymore._

Can't sleep.  
Never sleep.  
Should I ask him for more?

  
"That's the final one?" Ginny asked, just to make sure.

He nodded.

"Damn! Shame she doesn't specify the _him_, there."

"Yeah. And is it just me or does this whole thing read as _A look at Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and a shitload of booze through the ages_?"

"It sort of does, doesn't it?" She gave a small smile. "I wonder if it'd be sufficient proof, though."

"Hm. It does tell us, in no uncertain terms, that the old man was rather chuffed about Malfoy and Potter hating each other. He didn't want Potter in Slytherin House, either, seemed fairly adamant about it, in fact. But whether that actually _proves_ anything? I doubt it, Gin. I'm guessing the Wizengamot would dismiss the diary as totally circumstantial; at least at this stage. After all, it's the only thing we have to offer, aside from Snape's evidence that the sherry was spiked. Not to mention that it would be Trelawney's word against Dumbledore's, and she's in no shape to back anything up right now. The headmaster would weasel his way out of this just like that..." He snapped his fingers.

She sighed. "You're probably right. So... what are we going to do with the journal, then? Give it to Moody?"

"I think I'd prefer to show it to Snape first," Blaise said. "He's my Head of House and I trust him a whole lot more than I do some bloke from the Ministry. And besides, he's personally involved, too. "

"Yes, Harry told me Snape's been accused of working for the Dark Side." She shook her head. "Ugh, the very _nerve_!"

"There's that. And he's Draco's godfather as well, so this whole issue... Let's just say you really wouldn't want to be at the receiving end of his wrath at the moment."

"Right, then," he went on, rising to his feet again, "time to get back, before they start looking for us. He held out a hand to help Ginny up.

She smiled and took it, and they walked back to the dungeons in companionable silence. Somewhere along the way, Ginny decided she might want to get to know Blaise a little better. He was very nice, for a Slytherin.


	47. A Glimmer Of Hope

The next morning at breakfast, Blaise strode over to the Gryffindor table and took the chair to Ginny's left.

Ron frowned. "Do I even _want_ to know what's going on over there?" he asked Seamus.

The Irishman just shrugged in response. He'd stopped paying attention to Ginny ages ago. Not that he'd ever given her much thought to begin with.

"Everyone's suddenly dating sodding Slytherins," Ron grumbled in frustration, shoving some more eggs onto his plate.

"_You're_ not," Dean pointed out and added with a grin, "Though I bet you could be."

"What?"

"Come now. Surely, you've noticed Bulstrode staring at you?"

Ron winced. "She doesn't stare."

"No, you're right. It's more like leering, actually."

Ron made a face. "I'll just pretend I didn't hear that, shall I? Bloody hell!"

Ignoring his sniggering Housemates, he briefly glanced over at the Slytherin table.

Neville was happily chatting with Vincent Crabbe. Harry seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with Pansy Parkinson. And as for Malfoy...

Well, he was every bit his smarmy git self this morning, wasn't he? Except that when he caught Ron looking in his direction, he nodded. There wasn't a hint of malice in the gesture, either.

Slightly taken aback, Ron decided that returning the nod would be the polite thing to do. Then he mentally shook himself for having used _Malfoy_ and _polite_ in the same stream of thought.

He took another swig of his pumpkin juice and decided that all this was definitely going to take some getting used to.

* * *

"Um, Harry." Draco gestured in the direction of the Great Hall's entrance.

Harry looked up. He was very surprised to see Sirius Black standing there. The man was casually leaning against the doorframe. He had a big smile on his face.

Harry quickly rose from his seat and walked over to his godfather. "Sirius," he said in a low voice, "are you certain it's safe for you to be here? I mean, the authorities are looking for you."

He shook his head and grinned. "It's over, Harry. Moody came by just now. Pettigrew finally cracked and confessed everything. My name's as good as cleared."

Harry's eyes widened. "That's brilliant," he said with a huge grin.

Sirius nodded and slung an arm around his godson's shoulders. "Come on, let's go somewhere more private to talk, yeah?"

They walked out into the courtyard and sat down on a bench.

"So," Harry said, "what happens next?"

"Well, as soon as we’re sure that this nasty business is over with once and for all and you're completely safe, Remus and I will be leaving for Grimmauld Place. We're planning to have it refurbished. It’s old and dusty right now, with loads of creepy portraits. Not my style at all. Or Remus', I imagine. And then; then, you can come and spend the summer with us. After all..." He smiled, affectionately ruffling Harry's hair. "With Voldemort and most of his lot gone, there's no need for blood magic to protect you anymore. Which means there's no reason why you should stay with those blasted Dursleys any longer, either."

"Oh," Harry said.

It wasn’t the sort of reaction the man had been expecting. "Hm,” he remarked with a frown, “you don't seem very pleased?"

"No, don't get me wrong, Sirius,” Harry said quickly. “I am pleased, and very happy for you, and for Remus as well, of course. It's just... Draco and Narcissa have invited me to stay at Malfoy Manor over the summer. And I've already accepted. I mean..." He found himself blushing slightly. "I really don't want to be separated from Draco again. I don't... um... function too good when he's not around."

"Ah." Sirius smiled. "Well, I see no reason why your little Malfoy wouldn't be welcome at our place for a while, too. And it's two months, Harry! I'm sure Narcissa and myself can sort out some kind of arrangement. She's a bit of a wench, that one, but not _completely_ unreasonable."

Harry grinned. "Wow, you're actually _free_!" he said, the wonderful news truly sinking in at last.

"Bloody right, I am. So the world had better watch out! And now, young man, off to class with you!"

"Yes, Sir!" He gave Sirius a big hug, before he rushed back into the castle.

* * *

Part of Harry's announcement didn't receive as warm a reception as he'd hoped.

"Grimmauld Place?" Draco yelled, his angry voice echoing through the corridor. "Malfoy Manor suddenly not good enough anymore, Potter? Prefer your _canine companions_ over mother and me, do you?"

People stopped and stared. It had been a while since Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had last been at each other's throats, so this could get very interesting, indeed.

"Draco, please," Harry said, "that's not what I meant. It's just that Sirius..."

"Whatever, Harry, what-the-fuck-ever. I'm going to be late for Herbology. See you when I see you." He stormed off without a backwards glance.

Harry sighed, and the gathering of disappointed students went back to their usual business.

"Honestly, Harry! You two aren’t _fighting_ again, are you?" Hermione, who was suddenly standing behind him, said sternly. "Good gracious; we could hear him shouting all the way in the library!"

"Oh, you skipped breakfast to go to the library?" Harry asked, in a rather feeble attempt to change the subject. "What on earth for?"

"Professor Snape wanted me to look something up," she said dismissively. "So, tell me, what has Draco so upset?"

Harry sighed. "Possible arrangements for the summer."

On their way to Divination (a class that was now devoted to reading about old gypsy magic while a very foul-tempered Flich supervised), he brought Hermione up to speed on Sirius' good news, as well as the offer that had caused Draco to lose his temper.

Harry, in turn, learned that Gregory Goyle had resurfaced earlier that morning.

"His mum didn't know a thing about his father's dealings," Hermione explained, "so the Ministry decided not to press charges against her, obviously. The poor woman was a wreck, according to Greg. She's fine now, though, or he wouldn't have come back this soon."

Harry blinked. "You talked to him?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course." She smiled. "I practically bumped into him. And seeing he's your friend now, I asked him how he was. I suppose he's not a bad sort, really; a little rough around the edges, perhaps, but…" She trailed off.

In spite of his earlier fight with Draco, Harry entered the classroom with a big smile on his face.

* * *

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Severus," Moody spoke, gesturing towards the journal on his desk. "While by no means conclusive, it does confirm a lot of the Ministry's suspicions."

"It does?" the Potions professor asked, clearly intrigued.

"For a while now, we have believed Dumbledore to be rather, to put it bluntly, _obsessed_ with Tom Riddle. One theory is that he never got over his failure to guide that boy towards the right path."

"And thus," Snape ventured a guess, "he attempted to rectify that by pulling all the strings where Mister Potter was concerned?"

Moody nodded. "That's the theory, yes. And then, somewhere in the middle of the erm, _puppetry_, unfortunately, matters got slightly out of hand."

"Yes," Snape remarked dryly, "just a tad."

* * *

That evening, Draco first spent time in the library and then down by the lake; whatever it took to put off the inevitable confrontation for as long as possible.

When he finally returned to his room, he found Harry sitting on the sofa.

"Um, hi," the Gryffindor said nervously, "I... um..."

"Yes, Potter?" That sounded a lot harsher than intended.

Harry swallowed hard. "Look, Draco, Sirius is a free man now, and he's invited me to stay at his house over the summer and you can come too, and I've been thinking, maybe we could do a month at Sirius's and a month at the Manor, but of course, if you don't want to... go to Grimmauld Place... for whatever reason..." He took a deep breath. "I do want to spend my summer with you. I can't imagine... I don't want us to be apart. Well, I couldn't erm... so, basically, wherever you want ... is really fine by me."

"Right," Draco said. Slowly, he walked over to the sofa and sat down next to Harry. "So," he began, "your godfather's free? Pettigrew actually fessed up?"

Harry nodded.

"About bloody time!" Draco said, and went on in a much softer voice, "Listen, Harry, I may have... gone overboard a little, earlier. Actually, I think it might be acceptable if we spent half the summer hols at my place and the other half at your godfather's. That is, it's a decent house, right? Nothing like the Weasley shack?"

Harry chuckled. "Ron _hardly_ lives in a shack, Draco! Besides, Sirius and Remus are having the entire place renovated, so it ought to be brilliant by the time we get there."

"Alright," he said, still a little hesitantly. "We should make the Manor our first stop, though. Mother can be rather peculiar about that sort of thing."

Harry smiled and was very relieved when Draco smiled back. At least it didn't seem like this was going to turn into some huge argument. "So... um," he began carefully, "we're okay, right? You and me?"

"Yes, Harry, I suppose so."

"Good." He scooted closer to the other boy and grabbed his hand. "I do appreciate everything you and your mother have already done for me. You know that, don't you?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, I know. Like I said, I just went a little overboard, earlier."

Harry smiled. He knew full well that this was probably the closest that stubborn prat would get to ever apologizing, so he decided to let the matter rest. He shut his eyes and snuggled closer to his boyfriend, and he decided that, all things considered, life really wasn't too bad right now.


	48. Of Guardians And Smokescreens

Stretching and yawning, his eyes still shut, Draco reached out an arm, hoping to find Harry lying next to him.

It had to be pretty early still and he really wouldn't say no to a repeat of last night's activities.

Grinning, he considered that maybe they should argue more often, if the aftermath led to such intense snogging sessions.

But then again, maybe not. Harry had become very emotional afterwards, and not in a good way.

In spite of the happy news about his godfather, and even with a summer without those damned Muggles to look forward to, the boy remained awfully fragile. Would it do any good to mention this to Black, Draco wondered. Would the man even take him seriously?

His train of thought was instantly derailed when he found nothing but empty, cold sheets to his left. He opened his eyes in surprise and then he heard water running in the bathroom.

_Sweet Merlin, you haven't been sick again, have you, Potter?_

A few moments later, though, Harry re-emerged, fully dressed and looking rather cheerful.

"Well." Draco smiled, sitting up. "Good morning. Already up and running around at this hour of the day?"

"Um, yeah." He bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "Snape was at the door just now. Moody wants a word with me."

"Wow, I actually slept through that?"

Harry nodded. "You were dead to the world." He grinned. "Anyway, it shouldn't take long. He just has a few questions for me about some stuff in Trelawney's journal."

"Ah. Right. You're not going up there by yourself, though, are you? I could come with you, if you like?"

"No, it's alright. Greg's playing bodyguard. So you get to stay in bed a little longer. Try not to oversleep."

"I'll have you know, Potter." He smirked. "Malfoy punctuality is _legendary_!"

"Of course, it is."

Harry blew him a kiss before he left the room, and Draco shook his head in amusement. "Oh, honestly, Potter! What are you - a girl?"

Then he lay back down, rolled over and closed his eyes again. Six-thirty was really no time to be awake at all.

* * *

"My goodness! Are _all_ Muggle neighbourhoods this wretchedly bland?" Narcissa asked, looking around Pivet Drive.

"It's number four we want." Sirius grinned widely and grabbed her arm. "This way, cousin dearest."

Reluctantly, Narcissa rang the doorbell.

It would be a great understatement to say she wasn't exactly impressed by the surroundings Harry Potter had grown up in, and finally coming face to face with Vernon Dursley, the uncle she'd heard nothing but bad things about from her son, didn't exactly change her opinion for the better, either.

The large man standing in front of her seemed to have more moustache than neck. His hairstyle was of the sort Lucius might have kicked an elf for. And that hideous shirt... Well, she reasoned, at least it explained the ghastly attire Harry used to wear before their Hogsmeade trip.

"Yes? What do you want?" the man in the doorway barked at them. "We don't give to charity!"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Sirius spoke cheerfully, "Greetings! Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Sirius Black. I'm Harry Potter's godfather. And this lovely lady..." He gestured towards his companion. “…is Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy-Black."

"Harry's boyfriend's mother," she added helpfully and held out her hand.

Vernon’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. As he slowly began to process what was happening, he felt his mind go into some kind of meltdown.

There were currently two freaks standing on his doorstep, in broad daylight, for all the neighbours to see. And as if that wasn't bad enough already, the Potter brat had seemingly gone and gotten himself a boyfriend. A boyfriend! So not only was that little shit a freak, he was a fucking _fairy_, to boot.

Vernon Dursley suddenly felt rather faint.

"Who is it, dear?" a voice called from the hallway. "Everything alright?"

A thin woman came into view.

_Ah yes,_ Narcissa thought, _this must be the horse-faced aunt Harry described so vividly to Draco. Seems like he didn't exaggerate either, poor woman._

Vernon appeared to be rooted on the spot, so Sirius turned his attention to Petunia instead. "Good afternoon, madam. We are here regarding Harry Potter. May we come in?"

Petunia briefly considered her options.

These visitors, who were obviously some of _them_, didn't look like they were in any great hurry to leave and at least, inside the house, no one would be able to see them. Besides, there was no telling either, what they might do to her, should she refuse them entrance.

"Very well," she finally said and gave her husband a small nudge. "Come along, dear."

"Bleeding faggot," Vernon grumbled to no one in particular, before he followed his wife into their living room.

"Can I offer you anything to drink?" Petunia asked, wringing her hands nervously. "Please, do make yourselves comfortable."

Narcissa sat down and visibly shuddered at the wallpaper. Was that shade of orange even an actual colour?

"No, thank you," Sirius replied for both of them. "I know you're very busy people, so I shan't impose on your valuable time for longer than is strictly necessary."

Vernon nodded. Finally, something he could agree with.

"This concerns the guardianship of Harry Potter," Sirius went on. "I would like it to be transferred to me. I have here..." He pulled a large piece of parchment out from the inside pocket of his black trench coat. "...a legal document. It was drafted by Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts and then verified and approved by Mister Alistor Moody, who works for the Ministry Of Magic. Its contents are legally binding under both your law and ours."

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Petunia was the first to speak. "Wasn't there a reason we were lumbered... I mean, didn't Harry's staying here serve some kind of purpose; safety precautions or some such?"

"Yes," Sirius said. He was pleasantly surprised that the woman took his godson into consideration at all, and didn't just jump at the chance to have him off her hands, no questions asked. "But that threat has now passed."

"Excellent!" Vernon was starting to sound happier by the minute. "Good riddance! So, where do we sign?"

This earned him a murderous glare from Narcissa, who resolved to spoil Harry rotten as soon as she got the chance.

"I do believe there's a dotted line," Sirius offered helpfully.

Vernon grabbed the pen that was still lying on the coffee table from the crossword puzzle he'd done earlier, and he looked at the parchment in front of him. He supposed it stood to reason that these freaks didn't use ordinary paper. They never did anything like normal people. They could barely be trusted. "Hang on, just a second," he remarked, a dark look on his face. "This isn't some kind of trick, is it?"

"Rest assured." Narcissa smiled sweetly. "If we were trying to trick you, Mister Dursley, you'd be the last person to even _suspect_ such a thing."

He frowned and tried to figure out whether he'd just been insulted or whether the pale woman was simply a little peculiar.

Then, without another word, signatures were committed to parchment. As soon as the deed was done, the document instantly sealed itself.

* * *

"So what did Moody want?" Draco asked at lunch.

"A chat about Dumbledore." Harry grabbed another bread roll.

"What's the old coot done this time?"

"It's what he's been up to since the very beginning, more like."

Draco frowned. "Filling your mind with anti-Slytherin sentiment, you mean? But that's old news, isn't it?"

"There's more to it than that. He um... also wanted to keep me away from you, specifically."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"He approved of our rivalry, apparently," Harry explained. "He told Trelawney you were _the dark to my light_."

"Now that..." Draco shook his head and grinned. "...might just be one of one the tackiest things I’ve ever heard, Potter!”

"Hey, it's not like _I_ said it!" Harry retorted with a grin. "What I mean, Draco, is that he had this crazy idea that you'd eventually lure me to the Dark Side. I wouldn't be surprised if he still thinks that, even after everything that's happened. I guess it would explain that _Malfoy Heir_ crap from a while back."

"Moi?" Draco smirked, trying to keep the conversation light, even if the subject matter was making him angrier by the minute. "Taint the great Harry Potter's innocence? I wouldn’t even dare. Most certainly not!”

"Yeah, well." Harry blushed a little.

"So..." He mentally filed his boyfriend's reaction away, to tease him with it later, since this was neither the time nor the place for such things. "We played right into his hands by being so unpleasant and hateful towards each other for all those years?"

Harry just nodded.

"Damn."

"Yeah. Nothing we can do about it now, though."

"Other than try not to fight again." Draco smiled. "And hope that Trelawney wakes up soon. How many more days now, according to Snape, before there can be any improvement?"

"Four."

Before Draco could say anything else, an announcement was made at the teachers' table; by Dumbledore himself, no less.

"Some of you may be very happy to learn," the headmaster spoke, "that, after some serious consideration, we have decided there will, after all, be a Quidditch Cup this year. Try-outs shall commence tomorrow. Thank you."

The larger part of the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

Draco was one of the few present who didn't. Instead, he shook his head and muttered, "Panes et circenses."

Harry gave him a puzzled look. He'd missed Quidditch. He'd missed the exhilaration of flying even more. So the idea of being able to play again sounded simply brilliant to him. "Um, what was that, Draco?"

"That, Harry, was Latin. It means distracting the crowd from the real issues by keeping them sufficiently entertained. It was all the rage, back in Caesar's day."

"Caesar?" Harry looked even more confused. Wasn’t that some sort of salad they served in that posh restaurant his aunt and uncle sometimes went to?

"Julius Caesar," Draco explained. "Roman emperor, megalomaniacal Muggle. Not unlike our chum Voldemort, but minus the magic, of course. Although he apparently did make up for that by crucifying people, throwing convicts to the lions, that sort of thing. "

"Um... Apart from the fact that I'm amazed you know anything at all about Muggle history, let alone the Romans," Harry began. "I still don't see what any of this has to do with Quidditch. "

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Draco sighed. "Granger was always the brains of the outfit, wasn't she? You were just the clueless git with the never-ending supply of dumb luck."

"Hey...!"

"Please, open your eyes, Harry. This whole thing's a smokescreen. Dumbledore's obviously up to something and he doesn't want anyone to find out. Giving us back Quidditch means we won't be paying much attention to _him_. Or at least, most of us won't. I wouldn't be surprised, even, if it's all just for you, if you're the one he wants to distract."

"Oh." He got a sinking feeling in his stomach. "So... what do you suggest?"

"You stay far way from those try-outs, and keep watching your back. "

"My housemates will be extremely disappointed. They'll be counting on me, you know."

"Yeah, well..." Draco shrugged. "The Slytherins probably won't be over the moon when I decline, either, but they'll understand."

"Hm. Won't you miss it, though?"

"Are you kidding?" He grinned. "I only ever wanted to be on the team to try and beat you; and because my father was rather insistent about my participation as well, of course. A Malfoy upstaged by a half-blood? That just wouldn't do. Honestly, Harry, I like the game, but being up there in all weather, getting cold and wet and possibly ending up injured; where's the fun in that, exactly?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "You are something else, Draco Malfoy!"

"Thank you. Now finish up, so we can get to class."

Neither of them noticed how, from the other side of the room, an old wizard was watching them intently.

Harry Potter appeared to be on rather friendly terms with Lucius Malfoy's son these days. Nothing good could ever come of that, he pondered, nothing good at all.


	49. Against The Tide

"There we go," Draco said proudly, after he'd successfully Transfigured the book into a feather and then back into a book again. "Your turn."

Harry aimed his wand, uttered the spell and to his horror, witnessed how “A Hundred Medicinal Uses Of Mandrake” instantly burst into flames.

"Fucking hell!" Draco exclaimed. "Deflamis Instante!" He turned to the other boy, a worried expression on his face. "What's going on, love?"

Harry sighed and plopped himself down on the sofa. "Dunno, Draco."

"You have no idea _at all_?"

He just shook his head miserably.

"Well, in that case..." Draco sat down next to him. "I expect you'll hate hearing this; in fact, I'm pretty sure you will, but if a simple Transfiguration attempt turns into a potential inferno, Harry... If you can't control your magic, not even for something this trivial, you could be well on the way to becoming a loose cannon. With your powers, not to mention the history you already have with accidental magic, I'd hate to see what that might lead to."

His eyes cast down to the floor, Harry nodded slowly. "Remus once said my feelings are too close to the surface," he muttered.

"Yes, that's definitely one way of putting it. Your emotions seem to be all over the place right now, and your focus is way off. Of course, had you been in Slytherin, we would have been able to help you with that from the start. As it is, though, I think this might be a good time to go and have a word with Pomfrey."

"No," Harry was quick to argue. "No more infirmary! Can't Snape fix this?"

Draco sighed. "I suppose I could ask him, but he won't be over the moon about it. And I imagine he'll have quite a few unpleasant questions for you, as well, to determine what's brought this on. Not to mention..." He grinned. "The book you just torched was his. He's not going to be terribly impressed with _that_ part of the story, that's for sure."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather risk Snape's wrath than be cooped up in that damned hospital wing again for goodness knows how long this time." He ran a trembling hand through his hair and added bitterly, "Besides, it's not like I'll need to use a lot of magic anymore, anyway. Not now that Voldemort's dead."

Two pale eyebrows rose. "You _are_ joking, right? What if Dumbledore loses it completely and resorts to more extreme measures to get rid of you?"

"What?" Harry was dumbfounded at the suggestion. "Do you really reckon he'd actually try and kill me?"

"Haven't you been paying any attention at all these last couple of weeks, Harry? At this point, no, I don't think he'd go that far. But does either of us know the precise extent of that man's insanity? It can't hurt to be prepared for the worst."

Harry bit his lip and nodded.

"Alright, then. I'll talk to Severus, first thing in the morning. And in the meantime, no more magic for you. Come on, lie down." He gently pulled Harry closer, so that the boy's head came to rest in Draco's lap. "You take it easy for a while, then I'll try and make sense of the Astronomy nonsense Sinistra threw at us today. Honestly, I've chopped things up in Potions that had better teaching skills than that sad old prune."

Harry smiled slightly and closed his eyes as Draco grabbed his textbook and began to read.

Maybe the world would look better after a bit of sleep.

* * *

"Not meeting Viktor tonight?" Ron asked, looking up from the letter he was writing his mum. At the beginning of the school year, Molly had insisted he should keep in touch more regularly this time around. He wasn't sure why, nor did he have all that much to write about either, really, but well, anything to avoid one of those infamous Howlers.

"No," Hermione said, looking quite glum. "He has Quidditch practice _again_. And I have a feeling there's going to be a lot more of that over the next few weeks too. Durmstrang will probably want to play Slytherin or something."

Ron nodded carefully and tried to keep his facial expression neutral. It wouldn't be polite to show that he was actually pretty chuffed with the way things were going.

"I heard Harry's not interested in being a Seeker this year," he said, quickly steering the conversation away from Viktor Krum. "And would you believe it, neither is Malfoy? Katie was shocked!"

"Oh?" Hermione frowned "That's rather peculiar. Harry loves the game."

"Yeah, but according to Neville, Harry and Malfoy think it's all some kind of decoy. Which I think is pretty funny. As if the school would organize a Quidditch Cup for _their_ benefit alone." He shook his head. "I wonder if some of the Ferret's arrogance isn't starting to rub off on Harry now."

"Well," Hermione said, clearly thinking things over, "Quidditch _would_ be a great opportunity for Dumbledore to keep everyone occupied. And if anyone intended to hurt Harry, or Draco for that matter, up in the air, they would be quite vulnerable and very easy targets. So, I don't know, Ron, but that actually makes some sense."

"Hm." He still wasn't convinced. As far as he was concerned, this was just another case of Malfoy's misguided sense of self-importance getting the better of him.

Ron didn't feel like getting into some big discussion about it, though. After all, it was only sodding Malfoy, who wasn't worth ruining his precious time with Hermione over. So rather than voice his disagreement, he smiled and asked, "So, how about a game of chess?"

Hermione nodded. She was grateful for the possibility to take her mind off Viktor's increasing disinterest, be it only temporarily.

* * *

A knock at the door put a stop to Draco's reading and Harry's nap. The Gryffindor quickly sat up, before the other boy lifted the Wards on their door and shouted, "Come in!"

Narcissa and Sirius entered the room.

"Hello, my darlings," Nacissa said happily.

"We're not interrupting anything, are we?" Sirius asked, raising a mischievous eyebrow.

"No," Harry said quickly. A little too quickly, in Draco's opinion. They hadn't been doing anything worth getting bashful about, so why was that daft git suddenly blushing?

"Right then." Sirius grinned, and he and Narcissa sat down. "We come bearing happy tidings!"

"Ah?" Draco was pleasantly intrigued. They could definitely do with some good news right about now.

"First and foremost, Narcissa and myself paid the Dursleys a visit this morning."

Two pairs of eyes widened.

"We had a lovely and most productive chat with your aunt and uncle, Harry, and as of today," Sirius said proudly, "I am your legal guardian."

"Wow," was all Harry managed in response. “Thank you!" He came very close to bursting into tears and he was extremely relieved when he didn't. It would have been dreadfully embarrassing in front of Draco's mum.

"Tomorrow," Narcissa spoke, "two of my house elves will head over to Pivet Drive to collect your things, Harry. Those were some lovely drawings we saw in your room, by the way. You are quite talented, love! Anyhow, when you come over this summer, your belongings will be waiting for you at the Manor. You do still want to stay with us, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, of course, Mrs., um... Narcissa."

"Excellent. Then, the other good news is that your senile headmaster has apparently decided that everyone should have tomorrow afternoon off, to give as many people as possible a chance to try out for one of the Quidditch teams. Severus told me that neither of you will be taking part in that nonsense, however. This is correct?"

They both nodded.

"Very wise. I wouldn't be at all surprised if this were another one of the old man's tricks. Anyway..." She beamed them another warm smile. ".... seeing you won't have any classes and you boys work too hard as it is, I've decided to treat you to another afternoon in Hogsmeade. But only if you're interested, of course. What do you think?"

"Sounds wonderful to me," Draco said. "It'll be good to get out of here for a little while."

Harry nodded eagerly.

"That's settled, then. We'll meet up in my quarters just before lunch. "

A comfortable silence fell over the room. Harry let the idea of a life without uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia and Darling Duddikins sink in. It seemed almost too good to be true. He glanced over at Draco.

The boy had a huge grin on his face. "You're really sending two of our elves to the Dursley house?" he asked Narcissa.

She nodded.

Draco's grin widened even further. "Mother, those people go bonkers at the very thought of anything magical. The sight of house-elves might just scar them for life!"

"Yes, dear," she said with the sweetest of smiles. “I know.”

* * *

Shaking with nerves, the girl sat down. Reluctantly, she accepted one of the sticky biscuits that were offered to her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Chang," Dumbledore spoke in a soft tone. "How are you these days, young lady?"

"Very well, Sir." She struggled to keep her voice from trembling. "Everything's good."

"Excellent," he said, before he got straight to the point. "Do tell me, do you often see Mister Potter?"

She shook her head. "Not really, Sir."

It wasn't a lie. Generally, she only saw Harry at meal times and occasionally, she spotted him in the library, where he was usually with Ron and Hermione or surrounded by his little Slytherin gang.

Rather strange, when she thought about it. Harry Potter suddenly had a gang of Slytherins. But then again, was _anything_ normal anymore these days?

"I have from a very reliable source, Miss Chang," the old wizard continued, "that Harry appears to have lost all interest in Quidditch. Do you know anything at all about this?"

She shook her head. This was news to her, definitely.

"It's such a shame for such a great talent go to waste. The boy has so much potential, don't you know? Not to mention how any game involving Harry is always such a morale-booster for our school. Please, do have another biscuit. Anyway, as I was saying… Harry Potter. Ah... a great talent. He was rather taken with you too, Miss Chang, at the start of the school year, was he not? I daresay, he probably still is. Perhaps, you could have a word with him? Convince him that he shouldn't throw his talents away like that?"

She swallowed hard. "I'll see what I can do, Sir."

"Wonderful! Thank you so much for stopping by."

When she left the office a few moments later, Cho felt rather sick, and not just because of those horrible biscuits, either.

She had to go to Professor Moody now, and inform him of her newest assignment. She wasn't exactly looking forward to that.

  



	50. How The Mighty Will Fall

It was a fairly popular saying, especially among the Gryffindors, that deep down in the Slytherin dungeons, no one could hear you scream.

Like many of such sayings, however, it didn't hold a whole lot of truth.

When Trelawney woke up, three days earlier than expected, her piercing shriek of realization chilled even professor Snape to the bone.

He quickly made his way to the room the Divination teacher had been placed in.

She wasn't pleased to see him.

"Severus, where in Merlin's name am I? And what on earth is going on?"

He noticed how her eyes no longer held that glazed-over, confused look from before. Her voice was different too; more determined, less hazy and above all, rather furious, right now.

He gathered that this meant that the effects of the Delirissum had adequately worn off.

"Well, Sybill." He took a chair. "I do believe an explanation would be _most_ appropriate, at this stage."

* * *

"Hi, Harry," Cho said in a saccharine tone. "We didn't see you at the try-outs earlier."

"That may have had something to do with the fact he wasn't _there_," Draco snapped.

"Now, dear." Narcissa smiled. "Be nice." She turned towards the Ravenclaw. "Anything we can help you with, Miss Chang?"

"Um, no," the girl said quickly. "I just find it a bit weird that Harry won't be playing at all this year. He always kept things interesting and challenging for the other teams."

"Yes, well." Narcissa's voice was still kind. "There are more important things in life than silly sports, wouldn't you agree? Not to mention that this school is already well known for its ongoing rivalry between its students, some of it rather vicious, too. I fail to see the virtue in encouraging that sort of thing even more."

Cho couldn't think of anything to say to that, so Narcissa went on, "Do have a lovely evening, Miss Chang. Come on, boys."

The trio continued on their way to the Slytherin section, leaving the bewildered Ravenclaw staring after them.

* * *

"Wow, I still can't believe it!" Ginny enthused. "I actually made Seeker!"

"Don't be so surprised." Blaise smiled, grabbing her hand. "They obviously recognize talent when they see it."

"Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere, Mister Zabini." She grinned. "So, will you be joining us in the celebrations, then?"

"That depends. Do you think they'll even let me in, me belonging to The Evil Snake House and all?"

"I'd say whatever their Seeker wants, goes, wouldn't you?" she replied cheekily.

"You may have a point."

On their way to Gryffindor Tower, they narrowly averted a collision with Alistor Moody.

"Ah," the man said, "precisely the two people I wanted to see. One of the elves just told me Professor Trelawney's awake."

"That's brilliant!" Ginny exclaimed. "Are you going to visit her now?"

"Indeed. Would you two like to come along?"

"Um, sure. That's okay with you, right, Blaise?"

"That's fine." He chuckled. "And probably less hazardous for my health than walking into a room full of Gryffindors, too."

* * *

When Ginny and Blaise entered Trelawney's temporary lodgings, the first thing they noticed was the distraught expression on Harry Potter's face.

The boy was slumped in a chair next to the bed. Behind him, stood Draco Malfoy. The blonde Slytherin had his arms wrapped around the other boy's shoulders, in a comforting gesture.

Also present were Professor Snape and Narcissa Malfoy. The Potions Master wore the death glare that had already reduced many a student to a whimpering, trembling mess, while Narcissa was holding Trelawney's hand and softly speaking words of reassurance.

"Ah, Moody," Snape said. "Good of you to come."

"Severus," Alistor spoke. "Anything of interest to report?"

"You could say that," he replied with a smirk. "It would appear that our beloved headmaster has been engineering Mister Potter's life from before the boy had even come to Hogwarts."

"Because of him, Sirius never even got a fair trial," Harry choked out. "He sabotaged... everything... he even... Even Hagrid was in on it... with the anti-Slytherin stuff... I thought Hagrid was my friend..."

"Shhhh," Draco soothed, "it's okay, love."

"I wouldn't question Hagrid's intentions, Harry," Ginny offered kindly. "You know what he's like, heart in the right place, but not too much going on upstairs, if you get my meaning..."

"Yeah, Gin, maybe," Harry reluctantly agreed. “But even so, why didn't he ever say anything, though? WHY DOESN'T ANYONE EVER BLOODY TELL ME ANY-FUCKING-THING?"

"Mister Potter!" Snape barked. "We are telling you _now_, are we not? And rest assured that, had I been aware of the full extent of that old fool's meddling, you would have been informed immediately, along with the proper authorities. Besides which... this is _not_ the time for self-pity, no matter how strong your present urge to lay back and wallow in it might be!"

"Alistor," the Potions Professor went on, "I suggest you Firecall the Ministry post-haste and inform them of this latest development."

The man nodded in response, and promptly left the room, in search of the nearest fireplace.

Harry was now sobbing violently against Draco's shoulder and pretty embarrassed about it, too.

Draco, for his part, wasn't very fond of his godfather right now, and he had every intention of doing some yelling of his own later. He tightened his embrace and slowly stroked Harry's hair, ignoring all the other people currently in the room.

Ginny took a deep breath and walked over to the two boys, gesturing Blaise to follow. "Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to get Ron and Hermione, maybe?"

"That mightn't be a bad idea," Draco said. "Thanks Wea- Ginny. Oh, and Zabini, could you fetch Sirius Black, please? I'm sure he'll want to know about this, too."

Blaise nodded. "Sure. No problem."

"Right then!" Snape announced. "Time to lower some Wards, so the gentlemen from the Ministry will have access to the castle upon their arrival. You don't mind me borrowing Vincent and Gregory for look-out purposes, do you, Draco?" He didn't bother to wait for an answer and strode off.

* * *

Just before midnight, Albus Dumbledore was placed under arrest and escorted off the premises by two high-ranking Aurors.

Down in the dungeons, a blonde boy and his mother vowed revenge for a wrecked childhood and a young life not truly lived.


	51. Wind Of Change

The date was June 7th, 1995.

It was two days after Draco Malfoy's fifteenth birthday and twenty-four hours before Albus Dumbledore's eagerly anticipated hearing.

The wizarding world had been in an uproar over the old man's arrest for weeks now. Some more critically minded individuals found it sadly ironic how this whole history was getting more press coverage than even the Dark Lord’s defeat had done.

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, there had been a number of changes.

The Ministry had taken charge of the school and instantly appointed Minerva McGonagall as headmistress.

The conveniently present Remus Lupin had suddenly found himself the new Head of Gryffindor House. He was also teaching Transfiguration now, even if that was neither his best nor his favourite subject. But in desperate times, one simply had to deal the hand one was dealt.

After lot of careful consideration, not to mention some gentle persuasion from Narcissa, Severus Snape had reluctantly accepted the position of deputy headmaster. A turn of events that had been the source of much amusement amongst the Slytherins in general and to Draco Malfoy, in particular.

Narcissa, in the meantime, had filed for an official separation from her still missing husband.

Lucius' failure to turn up when summoned had greatly worked in her favour, as well as Madame Pomfrey's moving testimony about the poor battered woman who'd sought sanctuary at the castle all those months ago. There hadn't been a dry eye in the entire court.

Within the week - fortunately, wizarding law worked much faster than the Muggle kind - Narcissa had completely distanced herself from the Malfoy name, if not from the huge mansion in Wiltshire or the impressive contents of those two vaults at Gringotts.

On the student side of things, the romance between Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger was definitely over. The two remained good friends, however, and both found that things were much better this way.

Not long after their break-up, Cho Chang had tried to get closer to and impress the Bulgarian Seeker. Her ill-fated attempts, all three of them, had involved both laughter and tears. The tears had been all hers, while the laughter had belonged to just about everyone within earshot.

The dark haired Ravenclaw planned to transfer to Beauxbatons next year. Hogwarts just wasn't as much fun as it used to be.

Ron Weasley, meanwhile, was still waiting to make his move on Hermione. Fred and George were currently taking bets on whether he'd ever get around to it, at all.

* * *

"Come on," Draco said. “We have a boat to catch!"

Leaving Hogwarts by ship had been Narcissa's idea. They'd also be spending the night at a Muggle hotel. An upmarket one, needless to say, but, with any luck, there wouldn't be any magical folk there.

Hopefully, through these precautions, any unwelcome press attention before the actual hearing could be avoided.

It was no surprise to anyone, really, that photographers and reporters from The Daily Prophet were swarming around everywhere at the moment, like a pack of hungry vultures.

"Yeah," Harry said, "I'm ready."

Draco couldn't help but notice how deathly pale the boy looked. "Still nervous, huh?" He smiled and pulled his boyfriend into a tight embrace. "It'll be alright, Harry. And if everything goes the way we hope it will, it'll be all over after tomorrow too. Finally..."

Harry nodded. He was severely dreading both his own testimony and the inevitable confrontation with his former headmaster. He moved a little closer to Draco, resting his head against the boy's shoulder.

Suddenly, there was a loud cough behind them. They instantly broke apart and turned around.

Professor Snape was standing in the doorway. He wore a deep frown and was holding two small bottles in his right hand.

"Before you leave." He walked into the room. "You might be interested in these. The first is a Calming Draught to prevent anxiety, as well as nausea. It will also help if you don't travel well by ship. Two drops should be sufficient to last you an entire day. The second counters the effects of Veritaserum. Should the Wizengamot choose to subject either of you to their truth potion, the last thing _anyone_ would want is for Lucius' real fate to be revealed. Four drops each. No more, no less."

"Thank you," Draco said when his godfather handed him both bottles. "Will you be there tomorrow as well?"

"Yes. I shall be testifying in the late afternoon. And now you both would do well to run along. I do believe your mother is waiting, Draco. Best of luck, although I don't think Mister Potter will be needing it."

* * *

"Do you reckon they'll be alright?" Sirius asked Narcissa, his voice laden with worry and concern. The bright sunshine on the ship's deck was in rather shrill contrast with the gloomy thoughts currently clouding their minds.

"I don't know," she said honestly, "but I'll be very glad when we've put all this behind us. Hopefully that meddling old fool will finally get what he deserves."

"Well." Sirius gave a humorless laugh. "He certainly has enough charges brought against him to put him behind bars for quite a while, I'd say. I gather you've filed a complaint too?"

"Of course. The man implied that my son was some kind of evil incarnate. He even started rumours based on that charming little fabrication. According to my solicitors, that would be defamation of character." She sniffed indignantly. "I most certainly don't intend to stand idly by while Draco's name is spat upon. He can be a bit temperamental and snappy on occasion, but he's a good boy underneath."

Sirius grinned, deciding it best not to get into the specifics of the Malfoy temper. Instead, he said, "He does seem very devoted to Harry."

"He is," Narcissa agreed, "and I believe it's mutual, too."

The man briefly glanced over at the two boys on the nearby bench.

Draco was talking animatedly, making wild gestures with his hands, while Harry just shook his head and grinned.

"Yes," Sirius said, a warm smile on his face, "it's definitely mutual."

* * *

Narcissa's choice of hotel turned out to be rather nice.

But by the time they got there, Harry and Draco were already too tired to really appreciate it. All they wanted to do was snuggle up together and sleep. Even Harry's anxiety wasn't that terrible now, courtesy of Snape's potion skills and no doubt, the fact that he was horribly exhausted.

"Oh fuck!" was the first thing the Gryffindor said when he entered the room he and Draco would be sharing. "Twin beds!"

For reasons Harry didn't immediately understand, Draco burst out laughing. "Honestly, Potter! For the first time in months, you set foot inside a Muggle establishment and it appears you've already _completely_ forgotten what you are! Whatever shall I do with you?"

"Um, what I am?" He looked as confused as he felt.

"Wizards? Wands? Magic?" Draco supplied helpfully, before he shook his head and Transfigured the two small beds into a king size one. "There. That more to your liking, Harry?"

"Um, yeah, thanks." He gave a goofy grin. "Even if you did just break the underage magic rule."

Draco smirked. "I have a feeling that the Ministry really has much more important things to deal with right now."

Not before long, they were both sleeping soundly.


	52. Vultures And Vengeance

Draco woke up to the familiar feeling of soft hair tickling his cheek. The boy in his arms was still sleeping peacefully. "Tempus," he whispered to the small device on the nightstand.

"Twenty past six."

That left them with a little more than an hour before they had to leave.

He really wasn't looking forward to the day ahead. The hearing, as well as the inevitable pushy press attention, would be hell on Harry, and all the filth that was bound to surface wouldn't make Draco's mother very happy, either.

Narcissa had grown quite fond of 'her little Gryffindor'. If she had her way, before the summer was over, Harry would be just as spoiled as her own son.

"Hey," a sleepy voice suddenly whispered. “Is it time yet?"

"No." Draco smiled. "But I'm sure mother will drop by in half an hour or so. She believes in punctuality, which usually boils down to being unfashionably early."

He reached for Harry's glasses and handed them to the boy. Then he let his hand trail along Harry's arm. "Not too nervous?"

"I'm bloody horrified," he answered truthfully.

"It'll be fine," Draco said as reassuringly as he could. "Snape's potions will help. They always do. And you have loads of people on your side, supporting you. You do know that, don't you?"

Harry bit his bottom lip and nodded tentatively. Then he whispered, his voice trembling slightly, "What are we going to do about ... um... _us_, when we get there?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, not really understanding the question.

"Well... um... when we get to court, do I sit with you or with Sirius? Is it okay if I hold your hand? Can the world know we're...?" He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling very shy. Would it sound terribly sappy if he just came out and admitted that he really wanted to hold Draco's hand throughout the hearing, that he'd feel lost otherwise, that he needed Draco at his side, or he might crack?

Draco didn't hesitate. "I don't mind them knowing if you don't," he said simply. “The important people already do, anyway. And it's not like Dumbledore can cause us any more harm, I shouldn't think."

Harry smiled and let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

* * *

Wizarding London was exceptionally crowded that morning. It seemed that everyone wanted to know first hand what the outcome of the much-publicized hearing would be.

Heads turned when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy appeared. Loud gasps were heard as some onlookers recognized Sirius Black.

Reporters scurried. Cameras snapped.

"This isn't where the Wizengamot usually meets," Sirius explained to Harry, as the group climbed the steps of the stately building, "but there were so many people summoned to testify, not to mention the enormous public interest, that they decided to move things to here. It would appear we're rather popular. "

Narcissa shook her head in disgust. "Discretion would have been a much wiser option," she said, "but then, of course, this _is_ the Ministry we're talking about."

Those words had barely been spoken when Rita Skeeter suddenly came striding towards them, her loyal photographer in tow.

Harry inwardly cringed and quickly grabbed hold of Draco's hand. The Slytherin fixed the woman with an icy glare.

"Oh my! What a lovely pair you two make!" she exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. "Such pretty, _sweet_ boys!"

She pinched Draco's cheek. The look on his face now spoke a thousand words. Most were along the lines of _curse_, _torture_ and _suffer_.

"How painful it must have been," the reporter went on theatrically, "as a close friendship finally blossomed between two school rivals, to suddenly find yourselves thrown together in a dangerous Tournament, involved in a fight to the death with a Dark Lord…"

"Voldemort," Draco pointed out. Both he and Harry grinned when Rita paled instantly at the mention of that name.

"Now really, Miss Skeeter," Narcissa interjected sternly. "Have you no sense of decorum, hounding teenage boys like this?"

The other woman had regained her composure in the meantime. "It's my duty to report the news," she shot back. "We owe it to the public to deliver them the truth!"

"In that case..." Narcissa smiled a little too sweetly. "As a member of that public, allow me to return the favour and share a teensy fact with you..." She paused for effect, before she continued, her friendly tone of voice betraying the fury behind her words, "Being a fly - or for that matter, a _beetle_, on the wall can be a dangerous hobby, Miss Skeeter. One fine day, one might find oneself... shall we say... inadvertently _crushed_."

Rita took a few steps backwards, mouth open wide, utterly bewildered.

She had no way of knowing about the private investigator Narcissa had hired a few months ago.

The man had discovered many things that could be used to silence The Daily Prophet, should doing so ever prove necessary. Rita's secret Animagus form had only been the tip of the iceberg.

To her credit, the reporter was clever enough to know when she was fighting a losing battle. She instantly turned her attention to a random member of the arriving crowd and, from that day forward, would never bother Harry Potter or anyone associated with him ever again.

* * *

Harry thought that the large courtroom looked very similar to the one he'd seen in an old film once. He wondered if there would be a jury here too.

They chose seats somewhere in the middle.

"Alright?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "Just don't expect to get your hand back any time soon."

"That's fine by me." Draco smiled.

* * *

When Albus Dumbledore finally appeared, flanked by two Aurors, his face was bereft of any kind of emotion.

Amelia Bones, chairperson for the day, read out the charges.

1\. Obstruction of justice  
\- interfering with an innocent man's right to a fair trial.

2\. Reckless endangerment of students  
\- Tampering with the castle's Wards.  
\- Keeping parents ignorant of potential safety hazards.  
\- Failure to challenge an underage wizard's accidental participation in a deadly Tournament.  
\- Failure to come to the aid of that same underage wizard as he remained in an abusive domestic environment.  
\- Encouraging correspondence between a student and a convicted Death Eater.  
\- Not reporting a sign of life from said Death Eater to the appropriate authorities.  
\- Allowing an inebriated professor to teach.

3\. Defamation of character  
\- Making slanderous claims about Draco Malfoy.  
\- Defaming the House Of Slytherin as a whole.

4\. Long-term administration of a drug or poison in order to confuse and incapacitate an unsuspecting individual.  
\- Putting Professor Sybill Trelawney under the influence of "Delirissum" without her prior consent or knowledge.

"To these charges, how does the accused plead?" Mrs. Bones asked.

"Not guilty," the solicitor answered in Dumbledore's stead.

"Very well. Call in the first witness; Miss Sybill Trelawney."

As the Divination teacher went to take the stand, the people who knew her couldn't help but notice her unusually sober attire. The determined look in her eyes was overly obvious as well, despite those thick glasses.

"For the purpose of our records, please state your full name," the Interrogator began.

"Sybill Patricia Trelawney."

"Do you willingly step forward to testify and readily accept being subjected to Veritaserum?"

"I do."

At those words, a tiny cup appeared in front of her. She immediately downed its contents.

"Very well, then. You are currently employed at Hogwarts School For Wizardry And Witchcraft, in the capacity of Divination Professor?"

"I am."

"Would you care to share with all present here, how and when you came to hold this position?"

Trelawney nodded. As she started to tell her story, the bitterness in her voice was even more surprising than her choice of clothing.

"It was in the spring of 1990. I was working as an independent Seer, or rather, as they call it, _Psychic_, in Muggle Manchester. Most of my days, I spent telling people's fortunes."

"I see. May we ask why you had chosen to seek employment outside of the wizarding world?"

"I had been told that there were no specialized positions available for someone with my skill. Although I did try, for a few years, to carry out other jobs in our world, mostly of the administrative kind. But too often, I would be plagued by visions, which often left colleagues distressed. In the end, I was deemed _unemployable_."

"So you decided to pack up and leave?"

She nodded. "I'd heard about the Muggles' fascination with what they call _the paranormal_. It seemed to me that my kind was taken a lot more seriously there than around here."

"I see," the man said dryly. "And how did you fare among those Muggles, Miss Trelawney?"

"Initially, all went swimmingly. I set up shop right in the middle of the city centre and soon found myself telling the fortunes of all kinds of people, from locals to tourists."

He raised an eyebrow. "Tourists?"

"Travellers," she clarified.

"Ah. And how did you then proceed from being a successful independent psy- ... Seer... in the Muggle World to teaching at Hogwarts?"

She took a deep breath. "One night, early March 1990, I suddenly had two visitors, a mother and daughter. Technically, my shop had already closed for the day, but they insisted on coming in. The mother, especially, was very adamant about having the girl's fortune told. Eventually, I let them in. Not in the least because they were offering me more money than I would normally make in a week and... " She hesitated.

"Do go on," the Interrogator spoke. "And then what happened?"

"The fortune telling didn't exactly go well. Both the crystal ball and my tea leaves predicted that the young lady wouldn't live to see her twentieth birthday. "

"You disclosed this information to your clients?"

"Of course. I hold the truth in very high regard, Sir. And lying to a paying customer would have been a very unprofessional thing to do as well."

"Indeed. And thus...?" He gestured her to continue.

"The mother didn't take my predictions too well." Trelawney visibly shuddered at the memory. "She started shouting accusations of fraud, refusing to believe what I had seen. Then, when I insisted that I wasn't lying or attempting to trick anyone, she revealed herself to be a German witch. She told me I was wicked and would be punished for upsetting her daughter so."

"And were you... punished?"

"Yes. She hit me with a painful curse that left me unconscious. When I finally came to, my shop had been wrecked, but what was worse... much worse... I also found I no longer possessed any Seer powers, nor could I do any magic."

"Are we to understand, Miss Trelawney, that this woman, in some kind of vengeful rage, rendered you... a squib?"

"Yes, Sir."

Loud gasps were heard throughout the courtroom.

"Are you feeling well enough to continue?" The man's concern seemed genuine.

She nodded slowly.

"Very well. Could you please tell us what happened, following the events of that fateful night?"

"Well, I wasn't sure what else to do or whom else to turn to, so I decided to Owl Albus Dumbledore. I had kept my owl, to stay in touch with old friends and acquaintances who didn't believe in Muggle post."

"Of course. But why contact Headmaster Dumbledore? Why not one of those old friends or acquaintances you just mentioned?"

"I had always believed that Albus Dumbledore was the wisest living wizard," she said simply.

He nodded. "And after having contacted Professor Dumbledore, you were invited to go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. He said he'd be able to help me better if I went there."

"Just for our records, Miss Trelawney, help you with _what_, exactly?"

"Lift the curse and regain my powers."

"Did he make that promise, in so many words?"

"Yes."

"And did he succeed?"

"Technically, no. Although I thought otherwise, at the time."

"Care to elaborate on that statement, Miss Trelawney?"

She chose her words carefully, when she replied, "Once more, I was getting visions, but they weren't actually my own."

The man raised two eyebrows.

"I was drinking quite... well, let's just say, more than I should, and it would seem... rather... Professor Snape discovered that what I drank contained Delirissum."

"Are you implying that Albus Dumbledore drugged you?"

"Yes, I am," she stated firmly.

More shocked noises were heard, before Mrs. Bones insisted on silence in her courtroom.

"Assuming you were indeed drugged," the Interrogator now challenged Trelawney, "could it not have been by someone else?"

She shook her head defiantly. "I only ever drank two kinds of Sherry. It was the headmaster who ordered every single case at my request. Then elves brought the bottles to my quarters. No one else touched them."

"I see. And this went on for...? How long, would you say?"

"Roughly five years."

"And during all that time," he asked accusingly, "you never once stopped to question why _the wisest living wizard_, your own words, Miss Trelawney, would support and even encourage a drinking habit?"

She let out a bitter laugh. "With all due respect, Mister Interrogator, but I'm afraid that, at the time, I wasn't in much of a state to stop and question _anything_."

Some chuckling was heard, before another severe glare from the chairwoman willed everyone into silence again.

"Very well," the Interrogator now spoke. "Miss Trelawney, you are dismissed for now. However, we will wish to speak to you later on, as well, regarding the defamation claim from Mrs.Mal- I mean, Mrs. Black. Also in regard to Harry Potter..." He took another look at his notes and frowned. Then, he added, "In fact, I think you'd best remain in this courtroom for the rest of the day. It seems we'll be asking you quite a few more questions later on.”

Trelawney nodded. Back in her seat, she heard how one of the junior Wizengamot members started reading certain passages from her personal journal out loud. They too, would serve as evidence.

When the part about _a special boy coming to Hogwarts_ sounded through the room, slightly louder than it should have done, Harry held onto Draco's hand a little more tightly.


	53. Wicked Games

Harry had promised himself, over and over again, that he wouldn't cry; but when he heard Trelawney's words read out aloud like that, it became increasingly difficult to keep all his sadness, pain and anger bottled up inside.

_"Such fierce rivalry between two so young is rarely seen. Why isn't anyone stepping in?"_

"Alright, love?" Draco whispered, sensing his boyfriend's distress. "We can go outside for a few minutes, if you'd like?"

Harry shook his head. "I have to stay," he said determinedly. "They've kept things from me for far too long. I need to hear this."

"Your call." Draco gently rubbed his thumb over the back of Harry's hand. "Tell me if you should you change your mind, yeah?"

He nodded. "I will. Thanks."

* * *

Next to take the stand was Cho Chang. The girl stated her name and drank the Veritaserum, just like the Divination teacher had done before her.

"Miss Chang," the Interrogator began, "you are currently a fifth year student at Hogwarts School Of Wizardry And Witchcraft?"

"Yes, Sir, I am."

"According to Mister Alistor Moody, Agent to our Ministry, you have admitted to carrying out certain questionable tasks at your headmaster's request. Do you still stand by those statements today?"

Feeling Dumbledore's unusually cold eyes upon her, she swallowed hard. "I do, Sir," she eventually responded, her voice trembling slightly.

"And might I enquire as to when you started doing said tasks, the nature of which we will return to later?"

"I was summoned to the headmaster's office the night the Triwizard Champions were chosen."

"And would you care to share with us why Professor Dumbledore wanted to see you?"

"He...." She hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath. "He required my help. He told me Harry Potter was in grave danger. He suspected bad forces were behind Harry's name ending up in the Goblet. He assumed Draco Malfoy had..."

The man raised his eyebrows. "But Mister Malfoy is underage, is he not?"

"That's what I said too, Sir, but Professor Dumbledore told me Malfoy possessed a lot of influence in Slytherin, and that he could easily have forced an older housemate to put Potter's name in there..."

Now it was Draco's turn to squeeze the hand he was holding. It was either that or throw the kind of tantrum that would leave everyone's ears ringing for weeks.

"Miss Chang," the Interrogator went on, "did your headmaster say anything else about Mister Malfoy?"

"That he was probably under his father's influence, and that my friends and I were advised to stay away from him."

“Like I'd ever want to be anywhere near you lot voluntarily, to begin with,” Draco muttered bitterly under his breath, struggling hard to hang on to the little self control he had left.

"I see," the Interrogator spoke again. "Is it also correct that you informed Miss Rita Skeeter of The Daily Prophet that you suspected Draco Malfoy to be a Death Eater in training?"

She nodded tentatively.

"Was this also done at the headmaster's request?"

"Yes. It was."

Shocked gasps rang through the courtroom once more. Those who'd come here, expecting drama and intrigue, were definitely getting everything they'd hoped for, and possibly a little more, besides.

"Tell me, Miss Chang, did it ever occur to you to ask for any clarification as to _why_ he requested you to do all this? After all, even now, one shouldn't throw that kind of accusation around carelessly!"

"He told me it was _for The Greater Good_, that it was of immense importance for the world to know about the impending danger of..."

"...Malfoy Junior?" the man finished for her, sneering slightly.

"Slytherin House in general," she replied quickly, "but yes, it was indeed mostly Draco's name that kept cropping up. Some had him pegged as Vol- as the Dark Lord's successor."

He nodded and then moved on to the next question, a small change in subject. "Miss Chang, do you know why the headmaster approached _you_, out of all the students he could have given these... _assignments_ to?"

She pondered on that for a few very long moments. "Not entirely sure, Sir," she finally said. "Perhaps because he was aware that Harry seemed to have a minor crush on me at the time?"

Despite himself, Harry blushed slightly. Not only because crushes were, by definition, sort of embarrassing, but mostly, well... what had he ever seen in someone like _her_, in the first place?

The Interrogator smirked and briefly consulted his notes. "A few weeks later," he said, "not long after the Dark Lord's defeat, you received an Owl from Bellatrix Lestrange, as your headmaster had predicted you would. That is correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What did Mrs. Lestrange communicate to you, at that time?"

"She was still in Azkaban Prison, but she told me she would be leaving there soon and that she could count on _important help on the outside_."

"How did you interpret that statement, Miss Chang?"

"I ... um..." She looked appropriately bashful when she finally admitted, "I didn't, Sir. I just followed orders.”

"I see. Did you not find it rather odd, Miss Chang, that a convicted Death Eater was suddenly writing to you, revealing plans of her imminent escape? Furthermore, did you never stop and ask yourself if this was altogether above board or why your headmaster would turn a blind eye to such an unsettling development in the first place?"

"Turn a blind eye?" a female voice in the audience suddenly shrieked. "Sounds to me more like he planned and engineered the whole thing from the start, unleashing that wicked woman on our children! HOW COULD HE DO THAT TO THOSE POOR CHILDREN?"

"Kindly refrain from such outbursts in future, madam," Mrs. Bones interjected loudly, "or I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave my courtroom. Do go on, Mister Interrogator."

"Right then, Miss Chang," the man continued. "As I was saying, did you never wonder whether all this was altogether _right_?"

"Well... Once, I did ask Dumbledore why I had to do all this, because, well, I didn't understand, to be honest... And The Daily Prophet... Rita Skeeter didn't want to print... that thing about Malfoy... she said it had _bankruptcy_ written all over it... And I could see her point, really... you know, if the Malfoys truly had that much influence..."

Cho was rambling now and the Interrogator swiftly cut her off. "Returning to the matter at hand, Miss Chang, when you questioned the reasoning behind Professor Dumbledore's actions, what did he tell you?"

"He said, Sir, that I was just a child and that there was _a bigger scheme_ involved, one I wouldn't comprehend. He also said, not long after the Dark Lord had been vanquished, that Harry Potter had become a threat to himself as well as to the rest of the school."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Well, Harry had um... been relocated to the Slytherin quarters for his own protection and had in the meantime also befriended Draco Malfoy."

"An interesting turn of events, given the circumstances," the man remarked. He seemed rather more amused than was professionally appropriate. "Any other reasons why Mister Potter was suddenly deemed dangerous? After all, you started off this testimony by telling the court that Dumbledore's initial objective had been to protect the boy from further harm."

"As I understood it, Sir, it was linked to Harry's history and the existing similarities between him and Tom Riddle. That would be The Dark Lord before he changed his name to Vol-"

"I do believe everyone in this room is well aware of who Tom Riddle was, Miss Chang," the Interrogator said dryly. "But to recap, so Mister Potter would also be... _dealt with_, as it were? Because he had become a threat?"

She nodded. "Professor Dumbledore implied that he might end up the new Dark Lord."

"Another Dark Lord. I see. And tell me, did it seem feasible to you that your headmaster had been actively involved in enabling Mrs. Lestrange to escape from Azkaban and come to Hogwarts? In an attempt to _deal_ with Mister Potter, perhaps?"

"I guess it's..." she stammered. "I suppose it's a possibility, I don't... um..." Cho looked around, as if she were searching for an answer amongst the members of the audience. All she found there, however, were astonished looks and hateful glares. "Maybe," she finished lamely.

"Thank you, Miss Chang," the Interrogator went on relentlessly. "Now tell me, am I correct in stating that you were instructed by the headmaster to lower the castle's Wards and help Mrs. Lestrange gain access to Hogwarts Grounds?"

"Yes." She looked down at the floor, fully realizing, for the first time, just exactly what she had done.

"So, basically, Miss Chang," the man spoke in conclusion, "it was with your assistance that Mrs. Lestrange could enter Hogwarts?"

The Ravenclaw bit her lip and nodded.

"Thank you. That will be all. You are dismissed."

Cho quickly stepped down. She practically ran out of the room, not daring to look anyone in the eye on her way to the door.

Draco suddenly found himself appreciating the age-old Muggle custom of throwing rotten tomatoes and eggs, and if it weren't for the fact that underage magic in a room full of Ministry officials was a generally bad idea, he could have been tempted to conjure some of his own right now.

* * *

The next witness to take the stand was Rubeus Hagrid.

Harry sighed. "Fuck, no."

"Are you sure you want to listen to this?" Draco asked, when some fingernails started to dig into his palm rather painfully.

"Never meant ter 'urt the lad, y'understand," Hagrid now spoke in sincere tones. "The 'eadmaster told me 'e 'ad a lotta ambition, that 'e 'd be dangerous in Slytherin. that 'e 'd be tainted by bad influence from the others. "

"Bad influence from anyone in particular?"

"I'd 'eard evil things 'bout that Malfoy kid."

"Draco," Harry whispered, "can we please... leave for a few minutes? I don't feel so good."

"Sure." He stood up and, never letting go of Harry's hand, led the trembling boy to the exit. He made a firm point of ignoring anyone who looked in their direction.

The complete lack of people at the other side of the door was a pleasant surprise.

Draco assumed that the corridor had been declared _off limits_ and that anyone who hadn't been allowed inside the courtroom, had also been asked to leave the building, altogether. Which, of course, made sense. After all, this wasn't some ordinary, run-off-the-mill villain they were dealing with. Tight security was crucial, just in case Dumbledore had another surprise up his sleeve.

"Come on," Draco said gently, guiding Harry to a bench, "or do you need the bathroom?"

"No, it's okay. Just give me a minute."

They sat down. Draco wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him close and gently stroking his hair.

They stayed that way for a while. For the longest time, neither said a word.

"I knew Hagrid had been involved," Harry finally managed in a shaky voice, "but to hear it like that... He was my first friend in the Wizarding World, you know, except..."

_"...except the boy you were so vehemently warned about wasn't quite the devil spawn he was supposed to be. He could have become your friend ages ago. And let's not even start on that evil House you should have been sorted into, which would probably have changed your future for the better as well."_

Draco didn't have the heart to say any of that out loud, though. Instead, he just whispered, "I know, love" and held Harry even tighter.

"Sorry to interrupt, boys," a female voice suddenly spoke.

They both looked up in surprise. Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of them, a very worried expression on her face.

"Are you alright, Harry, dear?" she asked. "Sweet Merlin, the very _nerve_ of that man! And could that girl have been any more foolish? Good grief!"

Harry nodded. "I'm um... coping, thanks."

Then Molly turned her attention to Draco. "You'd best be taking good care of him, young man!"

When he frowned in response, she laughed and explained, "Ron wrote me you two are involved now. It's not a pleasant time to be young and in love, I'm sure..."

Not knowing how else to react, and still struggling to process the fact that a member of the Weasley family, (_Circe on a stick, a sodding Weasley!_), was being civil to him, Draco just shrugged.

He was very grateful when his mother and Sirius suddenly joined them, thus saving him from any awkward attempts at making polite conversation with The Woman Who Spawned so Many red haired Weasels.

"It seems they broke for lunch," Narcissa announced with a wide smile. "Would you boys like something to eat?"

They both shook their heads.

"Are you quite sure, Harry? You didn't have breakfast, either."

"Yes." He gave an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I'd only throw it up again."

"He _would_, mother," Draco said, his eyes pleading with her to let the matter rest.

"Lovely to see you again, Molly!" Sirius exclaimed, a broad grin on his face.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Black!" She grinned back and pulled him into a big hug. "So wonderful that you're finally a free man! Remus not here with you?"

"He has classes today. He's teaching Transfiguration now, poor sod, and they've made him Head of Gryffindor as well..." He shook his head in amusement.

"Yes, Ron said as much. He must be truly run off his feet, then!"

"That, he is."

"Molly," Narcissa now spoke, "good to see you again. I trust you are keeping well?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied automatically. "Yourself?"

Truth be told, Mrs. Weasley had never been very fond of Narcissa. She still had plenty of reservations about the woman's son as well; he'd better be treating Harry right. But it still wouldn't do to be rude or cause a scene, especially at a time like this.

"Fine, thank you." Narcissa smiled. "And if you could spare me a moment of your time, I have something of a proposition for you."

"Do you, now?" Molly asked suspiciously.

"Yes. I noticed how the old man hasn't been charged with conspiring against the Ministry, or something to that accord, I'm no legal expert. If he did indeed help organize my dear late sister's escape from Azkaban and her subsequent appearance at Hogwarts, _shouldn't_ he be?"

Molly nodded carefully. "Yes. I suppose... but the verdict falls tonight, or tomorrow morning, at the latest. What can be still done about it now?"

"Leave it to my solicitors. I'll Firecall them right away. I believe I can do that from the small office next to the entrance. You just have to make sure, if I can indeed count on your cooperation, of course, that you get as many parents involved as you possibly can. A joint complaint holds so much more weight, wouldn't you agree?"

Again, Molly found herself nodding tentatively.

"Very well, then. I'll get a hold of my legal team. They'll come over straight away once they realize the urgency." She knew she was laying it on pretty thick with her _from one mother to another_ approach, but she didn't know how else to get through to Molly. Courtesy of Lucius and his narrow minded snobbery, the two of them had never been friends, or even fond acquaintances. "That man could still be a genuine hazard to our children if he gets off scott free," Narcissa finished meaningfully.

Molly didn't need any further persuading. She immediately went off in search of any other parents she knew and rounded them up in the corridor.

All things considered, she still wasn't terribly fond of Narcissa Black. But she was prepared to put their differences aside. At least for the time being, until this nasty business was sorted out. And she would to whatever it would take, to protect her children.


	54. Shades Of The Past

The chairwoman sighed, as another charge was being added to an already impressive list.

There would be five more testimonies this afternoon, including one from an expert healer from St.Mungo's who specialized in maladies of the mind.

It wasn't much of a surprise, really, that the defense had chosen to take that route, rather than to try and justify Albus Dumbledore's actions rationally.

And if mental instability had indeed been the driving force behind the old wizard's schemes, there was very little chance they'd send the man to Azkaban. Most likely, he'd just be committed to St. Mungo’s for the rest of his life.

Either way, though, Mrs. Bones reasoned, he'd no longer be a threat to the children and that was the main thing, wasn't it?

Even if some people would still consider it getting off lightly, a punishment by no means befitting the crime.

At this point, however, she wasn't too sure how she felt on the subject, herself.

* * *

For Harry Potter, the first part of the afternoon went by in a bit of a haze.

He heard how Professor Trelawney answered an avalanche of questions relating to the contents of her personal journal.

The answers she gave were all variations on the same theme.

Professor Dumbledore was afraid of what might happen if Harry Potter ended up sorted into Slytherin, so he decided to do everything within his power to prevent that. And if The Boy Who Lived were to arrive at Hogwarts with a few convenient prejudices against that House and the people in it, all the better.

The Interrogator also asked her about the visions she'd had, particularly those concerning Draco's fate.

"Do you believe they were genuine?" he put to her.

She didn't have to ponder on that for long. "I'm inclined to think now that the stuff in my sherry brought them on."

"Once the Delirissum had left your system, did you still get visions?"

"No, not a single one."

"And have your regained your magical powers since then?"

"No," she said and added bitterly, "I doubt I ever will, Sir."

"That is all. Thank you for your time, Miss Trelawney."

* * *

The second witness that afternoon was a Ministry employee by the name of Ebenezer Flint.

He'd been one of the guards at Sirius Black's arrest and subsequent custody.

"I was still a boy then, Sir, fresh out of school," Flint spoke, "and I was mighty surprised that there weren't going to be no trial. I mean, thirteen people dead and no hearing? That's sort of unusual, innit? Then, one day, a couple of weeks later, and only 'cause I happened to pass him in the corridor, Sir, I didn't go and bother him or nothing, I spoke of my erm... thoughts to the Chief."

"I see. And what did he tell you in response, Mister Flint?"

"He said I was still young, Sir, and that one day, maybe I'd understand, that it was all for The Greater Good. I still felt mighty rotten about it all, mind, sending that poor bloke to Azkaban like that, no chance to speak for himself or nothing." He shook his head sadly.

"Indeed. And just for our records, Mister Flint, who was the Chief Warlock at the time, the man who told you there was a purpose behind this apparent miscarriage of justice?"

"That'd be Albus Dumbledore, Sir."

A chair clattered to the floor with a deafening bang. Sirius Black stalked out of the courtroom with a venomous expression on his face. Narcissa stood up and hurried after him.

Tightening his grip on Draco's hand, Harry felt himself paling once more.

* * *

When Severus Snape took the stand, the courtroom's atmosphere became uncomfortably tense.

Even the Interrogator sounded uncharacteristically nervous when he asked, "You are currently the deputy headmaster at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as their Potions Professor and Slytherin's Head of House?"

Snape nodded. "That is correct."

The Interrogator didn't waste time. "Were you aware of Professor Dumbledore's opinion about your House in relation to Harry Potter?"

"Indeed, I was," came the response. "He feared Slytherin would bring out nothing but the worst in Mister Potter, therefore it would be preferable if the boy were sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

"Did you, at any time, agree with those sentiments?"

"I most certainly did not," he replied indignantly. "On the contrary. In my opinion, Slytherin House would have done Mister Potter the world of good."

"Could you please elaborate on that?"

"For one thing," Snape began, "the boy has a history of accidental magic, of which, I'm sure, the Ministry are fully aware. Slytherin could have taught him some much-needed self control."

"I see. But nonetheless, you went along with the headmaster's wish to steer Mister Potter away from your House?"

"I did," he admitted. “At the time, I dismissed the headmaster's assumptions as being merely foolish. I didn't foresee them ever causing anyone any harm. A blatant error of judgment on my part, I'm sad to admit."

The Interrogator nodded. "So, am I correct in stating that you didn't share Professor Dumbledore's beliefs that, one day, Harry Potter might follow in Tom Riddle's footsteps?"

"That is correct, yes," Snape replied. "Even if Mister Potter and Mister Riddle did share a similar childhood, they remained two entirely different individuals. With the correct guidance, that _I_ would have gladly provided, Mister Potter would have thrived in Slytherin. He would have had no reason to stray towards The Dark Side. _I_ would have seen to that personally!"

Clearly satisfied with that answer, the Interrogator asked, "I gather you were the one who discovered that Miss Trelawney's sherry had been tampered with?"

"Yes, when I went to talk to her about the ludicrous visions she'd allegedly been having about my godson."

The Interrogator frowned. "Your godson?"

"Draco Malfoy," Snape clarified. "Initially, I believed Professor Trelawney's visions to be mere fabrications, a means of drawing attention to herself, perhaps. When I went to confront her with my suspicions, however, I noticed that the sherry in her quarters had an unusual odour. Further investigation led me to conclude that Sybill, too, had been an unwitting victim in all this."

"So again, for our records, it was _you_ who made the Delirissum discovery and researched the matter further?"

"I did. With the assistance of Miss Hermione Granger, a fourth year student."

The Interrogator raised his eyebrows. "You involved a _student_?"

"Miss Granger is a highly competent witch, let me assure you," Snape stated firmly. "I daresay, she's one of our most promising students at present, even."

Draco grinned. "Ah, if only Granger were here now, she'd be doing cartwheels down the aisle."

Harry gave a small smile.

"Professor Snape," the Interrogator now spoke, "I believe Albus Dumbledore also implicated you in the _Lestrange_ incident?"

A nod. "He did. Fortunately, however, Alistor Moody was already familiar with most of the facts, by then."

"Yes, very fortunate indeed."

* * *

Harry Potter was the next witness to be called.

He was trembling with nerves when he took the stand, and things on that front didn't exactly improve when he was instantly bombarded with questions about his life at the Dursleys'.

He knew why the Wizengamot were asking him those things, of course. They needed confirmation that Dumbledore had placed him in an unhealthy domestic environment and kept sending him back there, summer after summer.

"You actually slept in a cupboard under the stairs, Mister Potter?"

"Yes."

"And your headmaster was aware of this?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever attempt to make the situation better for you, talk to your relatives?"

"No."

Harry was most grateful when the Interrogator finally moved on to the next subject.

"Is it correct, Mister Potter, that the Sorting Hat considered you an excellent candidate for Slytherin, or is that just a rumour?"

He took a deep breath, before he replied, "No, it's true, Sir."

"Then you mentally argued with the Hat and insisted on being placed in another House?"

"I did." He didn't add, _and I was a complete idiot for doing so_, although part of him really wanted to.

"May I ask, why?"

He took another deep breath. "Well, Sir, Hagrid had warned me off Slytherin. And then I met this boy before I got to school and he wasn't very nice; kind of conceited, actually. Hagrid said that one was a Slytherin, for sure. Plus I'd already met Ron Weasley who'd told me that Gryffindor was the best House to be in. I guess, the bottom line... Slytherin _scared_ me, Sir."

"I see. And how do you feel about it now, Mister Potter, when you look back on that whole 'sorting' incident?"

"I think, Sir," he replied, "that perhaps I shouldn't have gone by rumours and first impressions."

The man nodded. "You are still staying in the Slytherin section of the castle at present?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The people there have been...kind to you?"

"Yes, Sir. There haven't been any problems at all."

"Good. And I take it you have now befriended Mister Malfoy as well?"

"Yes, we..." He hesitated for a moment and looked in Draco's direction. When the boy gave him an encouraging nod, Harry added, "Um, he's my boyfriend, Sir."

A few gasps were heard, but luckily, the riot Harry and Draco had anticipated never occurred; possibly because an unlikely teenage romance was nothing compared to all the actual filth that had also surfaced there that day.

The Interrogator blinked. "So you two are... involved?"

"Yes." Harry suddenly found his shoes most fascinating.

"If I may ask, for how long has this... relationship been going on?"

"Um, a few months, Sir. We became friends after the Yule Ball and grew closer."

"I see. Tell me, Mister Potter, has Mister Malfoy ever attempted to lure you to The Dark Side?"

"Definitely not, Sir. On the contrary, he helped me train for the third Triwizard Task and also promised me his help against Voldemort."

Predictably, a number of people flinched at that name.

The Interrogator didn't, however. He just said, "Help you also _received_ during your final confrontation with the Dark Lord, I gather?"

Harry nodded.

"Right, Mister Potter. According to Mister Moody's notes, you were repeatedly summoned to the headmaster's office, where interrogations and attempts at Legimency took place, the latter without your prior knowledge or consent. Can you confirm this?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you, Mister Potter, that will be all," the Interrogator spoke, before he added, in a much less formal tone, "I'm sure this entire ordeal has already been sufficiently gruelling for you."

* * *

The final witness that day was the expert healer from St Mungo's; a bespectacled elderly gentleman who claimed to have spoken to Albus Dumbledore on various occasions since the man's arrest.

His testimony was very long-winded and heavily laden with medical terms. It also seemed to speak mostly in the headmaster's favour, which greatly affronted a large majority of the audience.

Draco wasn't the only one listening with gritted teeth. He had one fist clenched in his robe pocket, while Harry's fingernails forcefully dug into his other hand again.

"In conclusion," the healer finally said, "my colleague and myself believe that the accused has been consumed by his own guilt for years. These feelings have rendered him paranoid and delusional. His failure to prevent the transformation of Tom Riddle into He Who Shall Not Be Named was a very strong blow. As a result, he became focused on the one person Riddle had been unable to kill, that fateful night. And when he noticed certain existing parallels between the villain and the survivor, a simple interest soon turned into an obsession. The accused was determined not to let history repeat itself, to succeed with Harry Potter where he had failed with Tom Riddle."

"So are we to believe," the Interrogator asked skeptically, "that Albus Dumbledore saw Mister Potter as a potential threat from the start and felt the need to... control the boy?"

"Indeed," came the response, "although _need_ isn't exactly the word I'd use. He considered it his duty, a way of rectifying a grave mistake from the past."

* * *

To everyone's surprise, the headmaster decided to forgo the right to speak in his own defense.

The last and only thing he uttered, just before the Wizengamot Elders left the room to deliberate, was, "Mark my words, this will end badly. You are all doomed!"

The audience members were considerably less disturbed by that statement than they might have been a few months ago.


	55. Alia Iacta Est

"Oh for fuck's sake, Potter!" Draco exclaimed. "Would you bloody well quit it immediately with the damned _pacing_?"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around to face the other boy.

"Well, pardon me for being pissed off, _Malfoy_!" he shot back. "But I'm having a bit of a hard time coming to terms with how _your mother_ managed to convince _my godfather_ to bring us back to the hotel! It's not like we'll be getting any sleep anyway, after all... all that! And do you have any idea how furious and fucking sick and tired I am of being kept out of what is basically MY OWN DAMN BUSINESS, ALL OF THE BLOODY TIME? WELL... DO YOU?"

The doors and windows rattled ominously, as if in response.

Draco took a deep breath. "Right," he said. He walked towards Harry and grabbed the boy by the wrists, a little more roughly than strictly necessary. "Firstly, my mother and your godfather realized all too well that the two of us are in no fit state to spend the night in that courthouse. Today has been hell on our nerves, especially yours. And in case you failed to notice, this hearing isn't just about _you_, either, Harry! If you think for just one minute- if you assume I find it amusing- or flattering- or what-the-fuck-ever that I was already considered evil even before they'd as much as laid eyes on me, simply because of my fabulous father’s reputation; long may he rot! I was eleven years old, for crying out loud! And I may have been a conceited, spoiled, bratty eleven-year-old and I certainly don't have any self esteem problems, either, but that's _still_ a far cry from..."

Draco was well aware that he'd started ranting, but he found himself unable to stop. "And then I'm thinking, have these bastards ever heard of the term _self-fulfilling prophecy_? What were they hoping to accomplish by making us compete against each other all the damned time, anyway? Even that moronic Duelling Club in second year, which even SNAPE participated in, I might add. Why'd he pick me, anyhow? Nott was much better at that sort of thing than I was, not to mention extremely dedicated to the Dark Arts, even back then. He'd have done worse than conjure a snake too, believe me! But this... us... you and I... we were meant to despise and hate one another from day one. And so we did, splendid! And as for me, I was apparently nothing more than a little Dark Wizard in training."

He took a deep breath before he continued, "Do you have any idea how lousy and digusted that makes me feel, how abused, how cheated? Father originally wanted to send me to Durmstrang. Did you know that? But mother thought that place wouldn't be safe for me. She figured I'd be better off at Hogwarts. She was convinced that Dumbledore would be a better influence and rid me of any dangerous ideas Lucius put in my head. For months, she pleaded with Father, 'Don't send Draco to Northern Europe; it's so far from here; I'd miss him too much.’ She whined and nagged until he finally gave in, just to make sure I was _safe_. The irony just about kills you, doesn't it? So don't you stand there, Potter, like all this is only about _you_. I've been fucked with at least as much as you have! And regarding mother... She's most likely kicking and blaming herself now, because maybe I would have been better off at Durmstrang after all, and she was the one who wanted me at Hogwarts! But are either of _us_ currently stampeding around the room like hormonal hippogriffs, feeling sorry for ourselves? Not bloody likely! So GET A FUCKING GRIP ON YOURSELF THIS INSTANT, POTTER!”

Harry fell silent. He'd been so caught up in his own indignation, that he hadn't even stopped to consider Draco. And they really shouldn't be taking this out on each other, either, he realized. They'd both been victims here. When he looked into sad grey eyes, his fury subsided completely. "You're absolutely right, Draco," he finally whispered. "I'm sorry."

Draco relaxed visibly. "It's been a long and exhausting day, Harry,” he said softly. “We should probably try to get some rest."

"Yeah."

Draco pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's forehead. Then he walked over to the cupboard to retrieve some pajamas.

Just as well, he pondered, that his mother had booked their rooms for two nights rather than just the one, and that they'd all packed accordingly.

"I really hope he won't go to St. Mungo's," Harry thought out loud. "It'd be no punishment at all. It's just like a hotel there. That fruitcake Lockhart's well chuffed at being their guest, apparently, and he gets to sign loads of autographs."

Draco frowned. "That idiot's still there?"

He nodded. "Molly Weasley visits him every month, bakes him biscuits too. Can't think why, but well... She feels sorry for him, I suppose."

Draco smiled. Then he said deviously, "You know, Harry, even if Dumbledore does wind up at St. Mungo's... He infuriated a lot of people you really don't want pissed off at you, including Karakoff and his chums. So I wouldn't be at all surprised if that hospital stay ended in pure tragedy."

Harry's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance, one fine morning, old Dumbles might just accidentally slit his throat whilst shaving."

"Um, I don't think he shaves, Draco."

"And I don't think you're getting my point, Harry."

They both laughed.

"Well," Draco said, very relieved that the mood had lightened again, "I'd make us some tea if I could actually get that Muggle contraption to cooperate."

"That's an electric kettle," Harry supplied helpfully. "You fill it with water, plug it in, and then you push this button."

"Um, whatever you say."

"I'll just do it then, shall I?" Harry grinned.

"Good. Then I'll take a quick shower."

When Draco re-emerged from the bathroom, a steaming hot cup of tea was waiting for him. Harry was sitting on the bed, flicking through a magazine he'd picked up in the lobby.

"So." Draco joined him. "Feeling less murderous, I hope?"

"Yeah, much."

"Good. What are you reading?"

"Celebrity gossip."

He sipped his tea and found it tasted rather nice. "The Muggle press isn't that different from ours, then?"

"No. And there's a lot more of it too." Harry put the magazine on the nightstand and asked, "So, are you going to try and get some sleep now?"

The boy shrugged. "I might as well," he replied and added with a smirk, "Unless you have other plans?"

"Well." Harry scooted closer. "Maybe."

"Ah. Very Interesting. Do any of them involve me?"

"Oh, yes." Harry grinned and ran a hand along Draco’s arm. “Definitely."

"Good." He placed his teacup on the nightstand and then leaned in for a deep kiss.

Not much else was spoken that night.

* * *

It was six o'clock in the morning.

The courtroom's lights were still on and the remaining members of the audience were fighting sleep with adrenaline and endless cups of strong coffee.

"How much longer, do you think?" Narcissa asked Severus, who had also decided to stay.

"Hard to tell," he said. "I believe another charge was submitted at the very last moment too."

She raised a pale eyebrow. "_Another_ one? By whom this time?"

"Igor Karakoff." The Potions Professor smirked. "Reckless endangerment of the Durmstrang students."

"Ah." Narcissa smiled. "It's rather lovely and rewarding to have friends in important places, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

Those words had barely been spoken, or an exhausted looking Amelia Bones suddenly re-emerged to address all present.

"The Wizengamot has reached its conclusion," she spoke, "Verdict and sentencing will take place in precisely two hours. Thank you for your time and attention."

"Well," Sirius said, rising from his seat, "I suppose I'd better go and wake the boys. They wouldn't want to miss this."

Narcissa nodded. "I only hope it'll be the outcome we all wish for."

* * *

At eight o'clock sharp, the Wizengamot returned. As did Professor Dumbledore, flanked by two high-ranking Aurors.

Amelia Bones read out the charges again, before addressing the Elders' spokesman, a wizard by the name of Tiberius Ogden. "Have you reached your verdict?"

"Yes, we have, madam."

She cleared her throat. Her present fatigue was written all over her face and it was obvious that she wanted nothing more than for this entire ordeal to be over with, at last.

"On the charge of _Obstruction of justice_, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty, Chairwoman Bones."

"On the seven charges of _reckless endangerment of Hogwarts students_, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty on all counts, Chairwoman Bones."

"On the charge of _reckless endangerment of Durmstrang students_, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty, Chairwoman Bones."

"On the charges of _defamation of character_, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty on both counts, Chairwoman Bones."

"On the charge of _Conspiracy against the Ministry Of Magic_, as brought forward by Narcissa Black, Molly Weasley and an independent body of concerned parents, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty, Chairwoman Bones."

"And finally, on the charge of _long-term administration of a drug or poison in order to confuse and incapacitate an unsuspecting individual_, how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty as charged, Chairwoman Bones."

"Thank you."

She turned to the Court Scribe. "The records will state that on June 9th, 1995, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was found guilty of all charges brought against him. We will now proceed with the sentencing."

Tiberius Ogden cleared his throat. "The council of Elders has determined that, although mentally clouded by failure and guilt, the accused can still be held accountable for his deeds. We base this decision on the amount of careful planning, as well as the complex nature of certain actions involved in some of his crimes."

Amelia Bones nodded, both in understanding and agreement.

"As such, the council, although sympathetic to any bitterness and trauma brought on by the accused's inability to prevent the later actions of his former student Tom Riddle, has decided that no mitigating circumstances could ever justify or excuse a series of offences of this magnitude."

Mister Ogden paused for a moment, giving the Scribe the chance to write everything down verbatim.

Then, he announced, "For punishment, we have decided that Albus Dumbledore is to serve twenty years in Azkaban. The Council Of Elders also feels that a lifelong ban on using magic is required and hereby orders the confiscation and subsequent destruction of the accused's wand."

"Very well," Amelia Bones said. "So be it. This court is now adjourned. Thank you for your time."

Albus Dumbledore allowed himself to be led away quietly. There were no parting words. His eyes or facial expression betrayed none of his current feelings, nor could anyone tell whether the grim reality of his sentence was actually sinking in.

Was this what silent defeat looked like, Harry wondered? And then he also found himself wondering if he'd ever see the old wizard again. Regardless of what the man had done, Hogwarts really wouldn't be the same without him.

As assorted members of the press ran out the room excitedly and something of a satisfied sneer started to tug at the corners of Snape's mouth, Harry turned to face the blonde boy sitting next to him.

Draco had a look of both puzzlement and relief on his face. Truth be told, he had fully expected the Wizengamot to lap up the insanity plea and act accordingly, especially seeing how the man had been their Chief Warlock for decades. But apparently, he'd overestimated their loyalty. Or had he simply underestimated his own mother? Whatever the case, justice had been served and that was all that mattered.

"So." Harry smiled, gently squeezing Draco's hand. "You reckon it's all over now?"

"Yes," he said and smiled back. "I think it finally is."


	56. Snake In The Grass

By the time they arrived back at Hogwarts, it was already past nightfall.

Their return was a quiet affair. There were no trumpeters and no one had bothered with a red carpet either.

After all, the incarceration of their former headmaster, as well as the events leading up to that point, hardly warranted any kind of celebration.

Of course, the whole school was already informed about the verdict. A special edition of The Daily Prophet had arrived at lunch; the sensational tale of a good wizard gone bad smeared out in all its wretchedness over a staggering ten pages.

The students had been both intrigued and horrified, in somewhat equal proportions.

Mid afternoon, headmistress McGonagall had made a moving speech, as one did on these occasions, all about regrettable occurrences, life going on and her door always being open.

She had also announced that there would be an informal dance at the end of June, a Summer Ball, to lift everyone's spirits and to end what had been 'an awfully turbulent school year' on a pleasant, hopeful note.

The prospect of a party, at least, had made most in attendance feel a little better.

* * *

A small group of students was waiting in the Slytherin Common Room.

Remus Lupin had joined them half an hour ago and had soon found himself mildly amused at some of the unexpected friendships that had formed.

Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle and Neville Longbottom animatedly discussed today's Astronomy assignment, while Ron Weasley and Blaise Zabini were involved in a pretty intense game of chess.

At another table, Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory were playing cards with Ginny Weasley and Vincent Crabbe. To Remus' amazement, the burly Slytherin was a much better player than you'd initially give him credit for.

Just as Professor Lupin was about to turn his attention back to the papers in front of him, the door flew open and five people entered.

Hermione jumped out of her seat, ran towards her best friend and pulled him into a massive hug. "Harry!" she yelled, a little too close to his left ear for comfort. "You did it! Congratulations!"

Pansy immediately followed suit, throwing her arms around Draco as if he'd just come back from a war. Well, she reasoned, in a sense, he _had_.

"Easy, Pans." He grinned, wondering how such a petite girl could be so strong. "I'll still be needing those ribs later, thanks!"

"Yeah." Ron snorted from his seat. "And no messing up the hair either, Parkinson!"

Draco managed a half-hearted glare, but he was really too happy, not to mention also rather tired, to let himself be baited by a Weasley.

"Well..." Pansy finally loosened her grip on her best friend. "Don't keep us in suspense, boys! What happened?"

"Yeah," Ginny added enthusiastically. "We want the full story, down to every single sordid, little detail."

The students gathered around the fireplace, while the adults went to Snape's office to discuss the events of the past few days.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall eyed Sybill Trelawney intensely.

They were sitting in Dumbledore's old office, technically Minerva's office now, even if she hadn't had the heart to move her stuff in, yet. Some wondered if she ever would.

"I'm afraid I have to request an indefinite leave of absence, effective immediately," Trelawney spoke. Her voice was tired but determined.

Minerva looked genuinely surprised. "Why is that, dear?"

The other woman coughed nervously. "I've decided to undergo treatment at St. Mungo's. I'm checking myself in tomorrow," she said with a wry smile. "Something I should probably have done many years ago, rather than hide at the bottom of a Sherry bottle."

The headmistress gave a sympathetic nod. "I've heard they are quite accomplished and experienced at lifting curses and restoring magic these days, so hopefully they will be able to help you."

"I hope so too. And if not, well, at least I'll return to the Muggle world, knowing I tried every option available."

"Return to the Muggle word?" Minerva frowned. "Surely you needn't go that far, Sybill? If you so choose, you'll always have a home here; as well as a job, if you need one. It's the least the school can do, after..." She trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase the rest of it.

"Thank you. I greatly appreciate your generosity, Minerva, I truly do, but I'm afraid this is something I have to do independently, lest I regain any kind of self-respect."

McGonagall nodded in understanding, even though it pained her greatly to see the Divination professor go. She'd intended to give Trelawney some kind of compensation for Dumbledore's wrongdoings, try to make up for five years of terrible lies and deceit. There wasn't much chance of that now, unfortunately.

But she fully understood Sybill's point of view. Had the roles been reversed, Minerva would most likely have taken a similar route herself. So she granted the leave of absence right away, no further questions asked.

* * *

"Right," Remus began lightheartedly, "so this is where we all live happily ever after?"

"Hope springs eternal, Lupin," Snape said dryly.

"I detect something beyond sarcasm in that statement," Sirius pointed out. "Care to share with the rest of us?"

"Brilliantly observed, Black." Snape smirked. "Very well. Satisfied though I am at today's outcome, I can't help but feel that we may have overlooked something essential."

Narcissa frowned. "Such as?" she asked, slightly irritated at Severus' obvious cynicism.

"Well," Snape began, "for one thing, who's to guarantee that Albus will actually _remain_ in Azkaban? Others have managed to escape and none of _them_ possessed his kind of powers." He threw a meaningful glance at Sirius, who just smirked in response.

"Even without his wand," the Potions Master added, "Dumbledore is a force to be reckoned with. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he were plotting his break-out right now, even as we speak."

"Severus," Remus said after a few tense moments, "even if I don't share your pessimism in this matter, indulge me anyway, which actions do you suggest we take now, then?"

True to his Slytherin nature, Snape had already given the matter a great deal of thought, so it was without any hesitation whatsoever that he replied, "Karakoff told me yesterday morning that he'd prefer for the old man to be kept in a high security prison in Siberia, one that apparently makes Azkaban look like a Muggle amusement park. But in order to have him transferred, Albus would have to be tried before the International High Wizards' Tribunal. Their trials, however, take years to set up and considering the man's age, I doubt those in charge would find it worth their while to even start the procedure. Fortunately, there is also another option..."

"Go on," Remus urged.

The Potions Professor smirked. "Some of Karakoff's old friends are still enjoying the Ministry's special brand of hospitality at present. They're bound to make Albus' acquaintance very soon."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "You're going to ask them to hurt Dumbledore?" she asked, wondering how far Snape was willing to take this.

"Actually, Cissa," he replied, "I was thinking more along the lines of keeping a very watchful eye on the old man, to ensure that he doesn't decide to make a leap for freedom."

"And what if he does... _leap_?" Sirius asked, unnecessarily, because he could sense only too well where this was heading.

"In that case," Snape replied. "How shall I put this? Ah yes, regrettably, certain sacrifices will have to be made for The Greater Good."

The icy determination in his voice left no doubt that he meant every word.


	57. Prelude To A Dance

In 1995, for the first time since Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts, the House Cup once again went to Slytherin.

Draco would have been extremely proud of his former Team, had it not been for the fact that he really didn't care about Quidditch anymore.

These days, most of his attention went to his studies. Something that earned him plenty of praise from Hermione Granger, and had also turned him into the reluctant example she'd mention every time she felt some unfortunate soul needed reminding of an important assignment or test.

Of course, Draco spent as much time as possible with Harry as well. Now that all threats of Dark Lords and meddling headmasters had subsided and vanished, things on that front were better than ever.

After Dumbledore's trial, the relationship had become common knowledge too, and if anyone objected to the two former school rivals being together, any such naysayers certainly weren't brave (or foolish) enough to voice their objections out loud.

All in all, life was slowly starting to resemble normal, or as normal as it could get in a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It was a most welcome change.

* * *

"Draco," Harry began, sounding quite nervous, "is it customary for a boy to take another boy to a dance?"

They were sitting on the sofa in Draco's private quarters.

An amused Ron Weasley was slumped in a nearby chair and pretended to concentrate on his Transfiguration textbook. He wasn't quite sure why Hermione had told him she'd meet him here, of all places, but he had to admit, life in the Snake Pit could be rather entertaining.

He still wasn't terribly fond of Malfoy, mind you, and he didn't foresee his feelings changing in the near future either. But all the same, Harry was still his best mate and you didn't just dump a dear friend because he happened to have an appalling taste in men, did you? Besides, by sticking around, Ron could also keep a close eye on the Ferret, make sure he was treating Harry right and all that rot.

So far, Ron found he had nothing to worry about on that front.

Malfoy, a conceited git though he was, obviously cared a great deal about Harry. Which made everything okay in Ron's book. Well, not quite _okay_ just yet, but at least he was doing his very best to get used to the situation.

"Not a clue," Draco said in response to Harry's question. "I don't think I've ever _seen_ it happen. Not here, anyway, or in my family. But then, of course, you know what Lucius was like."

"So... um... we shouldn't?"

Draco grinned. "Is this your way of asking me to the Ball, Potter?" he challenged.

Ron failed to hold back a chuckle. Yes, life around here could get very entertaining, indeed.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Find something funny, Weasley?"

"No, not at all," he lied unconvincingly.

"So..." Draco now turned his full attention to the snickering boy. "Have you asked Granger yet?"

"Um." Ron felt himself blush.

"Oh dear." Draco smirked. "I'll take that as a _no_. Pray tell, what are you waiting for?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he added mischievously, "You know, Weasley, there's a rumour presently in circulation that Finch-Fletchley's just waiting for the right moment to make his move on your precious bookworm."

"What?" Ron shouted, his embarrassment suddenly forgotten and replaced by jealous rage. "Hermione and that pompous, poncy, pretentious, puffed up... prat? "

"Yes," Draco agreed. "Rather vile when you think about it, isn't it? And he's a _Hufflepuff_, too. She'd be better off going with Vince or Greg."

"Or maybe even both of them," Harry suggested. He knew he probably shouldn't, but he was rather enjoying the effect this conversation was having on Ron. Not to mention that he also felt it was high time his two best friends got together. They'd been skirting around each other for years now. The whole thing was getting pretty tiresome, even just to look at.

"WHAT?! CRABBE AND GOYLE?" Ron yelled indignantly. "Are you two out of your damned minds?"

The response to that question never came because after a discreet knock at the door, the girl they'd been talking about suddenly entered the room.

To everyone's amazement, as well as Draco's disgust, a hesitant Hagrid followed closely behind her.

The unimpressed Slytherin was the first to speak, or rather, snarl. "What the ruddy fuck, Granger?"

"Erm, maybe I should better go, 'ermione," Hagrid mumbled, turning around again.

"Oh no, you don't!" she said and grabbed the half-giant by the arm to stop him from leaving.

Then she addressed the three boys who were currently glaring at her. "Look, Hagrid has something to say. It won't take long. Harry, would you at least hear him out?"

Harry sighed. The man standing there, shuffling his feet nervously and looking like a kicked puppy (be it a rather large one), was the first wizard he'd ever met, the first friend he'd made in that amazing world he'd known nothing about before that flood of Hogwarts letters.

Even if a lot of what had happened since had been a lie, maybe the poor sod deserved another chance, anyway? Perhaps he'd been manipulated just as much as they had, which made him just another victim?

For a few long moments, Harry wasn't sure what to think or do, but in the end, his noble Gryffindor nature won out. "Alright," he said. "What is it, Hagrid?"

"Well, erm... 'arry," came the uncertain response, "I just wanted ter, ye know, apologize fer... I did what I thought I 'ad teh do. I never meant ter 'urt ye. I thought I could trust Albus. Turns out I was dead wrong."

The room went painfully quiet.

"Oh for goodness' sake, Harry!" Hermione finally exclaimed. "At least say _something_!"

Harry glanced towards Draco. The boy just shrugged; a gesture that either said 'it's up to you' or 'let him bugger off, this is just a waste of everyone's time', Harry couldn't really tell.

He finally made up his mind, rose from his seat and walked towards his old friend and teacher.

"Hagrid," he began, "I suppose, in a way, you've been screwed over as much as we have. It'll take a while. I mean, I'm sure you understand it won't be the way it was before, not... not immediately, but I suppose I can agree to let bygones be bygones... if um... Draco and Ron are okay with that too. Hermione obviously is."

Ron shrugged. "It's your call, mate," he said. "If you're cool with it, I'm cool with it as well." Then he inwardly beamed at the approving smile Hermione sent his way.

"Um... Draco?"

The Slytherin took a deep breath.

In all honesty, he'd have been much happier if that dodgy bastard had been sacked last year after the Hippogriff incident. He'd never liked the oversized ruffian much, and he certainly had no desire to befriend him now, either.

But on the other hand, the scruffy bugger did appear to be rather important to Harry.

_Sod it,_ Draco thought, as he looked into pleading green eyes and at the same time wondered how he'd ever got to be this sappy to begin with. "I second what Weasley just said," he finally responded, mentally kicking himself twenty shades of blue.

Harry smiled broadly, obviously relieved, and shook Hagrid's hand.

Ron and Draco didn't follow his example.

"Right, I erm... 'avta get back," Hagrid now spoke. He too looked very pleased that maybe this friendship could still be salvaged after all. He walked towards the door and just before he left, he briefly turned to Draco. "Y’er a good lad. 'arry's lucky to 'ave ye."

The Slytherin wasn't sure whether he should be flattered by that, or resort to mockery. So he just settled for a smirk. That seemed to befit most occasions.

* * *

"So, Mademoiselle Delacour." Cedric grinned and made an elegant, as well as slightly exaggerated, bow. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Summer Dance?"

"Mais bien sûr." She smiled. "And zee 'onour vould be all mine, Monsieur Diggory."

Hand in hand, they walked in the direction of the Great Hall.

"You 'ave spoken to your fa'zer?" Fleur asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, I told him I'm joining you in France this summer."

"My mo'zer is very much looking forward to meeting you," Fleur enthused. "Gabrielle 'as told 'er much about you."

He gave a wide smile. "Oh, I can imagine."

"Et ton père? Is 'e okay vit it too?"

"Well..."

Cedric hesitated. He wasn't quite sure if he should tell his girlfriend just how badly Amos Diggory had taken the news.

The man had hoped to give his son two months' worth of work experience over at the Ministry, to help prepare the boy for what would eventually be a prestigious career in law enforcement. That wasn't going to happen now, obviously.

And then there had been that small matter of the girl being French too.

Granted, his father wasn't as much of a snob as some (the name Lucius Malfoy sprang to mind), but nonetheless, Cedric was still pretty sure that Amos would much prefer to see his son settle down with a British witch than a French one who was part-Veela to boot.

"He doesn't have a lot of choice, does he, Fleur?" the Hufflepuff finally replied, opting for the _what she doesn't know, won't hurt her_ approach. "At the end of the day, it's my life and whatever I decide, he'll just have to accept."

And Cedric meant every word of that, as well.

He'd spent the larger part of the past seventeen years doing his utmost to make his father proud, all the while suppressing his own dreams and ambitions.

He'd taken all the subjects he'd been able to handle, including the sleep-inducing Ancient Runes. He'd put in all the Quidditch practice he'd been able to manage, regardless of injuries or fatigue. Hell, he'd even entered his name for that blasted Triwizard Tournament! The Tournament that could very well have killed him...

It had been back in that graveyard, the place where he'd suddenly found himself eye to eye with the one who called himself Voldemort, the place he'd feared he'd never get out of alive...

It had been back _there_, that Cedric had decided that time was simply too precious to waste and that, from now on, he'd be living his own life and making his own choices.

And regardless of his father's feelings on the matter, those choices definitely included Fleur Delacour.

* * *

"Granger, a word?"

Hermione turned around to face the boy who had followed her to the library after lunch. "Look, Draco," she said defensively, "if this is about Hagrid..."

"It's not," he cut her off. "It's about Weasley."

"What about Ron?" she asked and she wondered why he couldn't just refer to people by their first names like everyone else. For one thing, there were currently four Weasleys in her immediate circle of friends. Sooner or later, this was bound to get horribly confusing.

"Well." He grinned. "Apparently, the poor sod's too shy to ask you to the dance and frankly, it's getting to the point of being bloody ridiculous."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not even _remotely_ funny, Malfoy!"

"Hey!" he protested. "I'm not joking. And neither was Harry a few minutes ago when he told me this whole business is doing his head in."

"He... _what?_" She was genuinely puzzled now.

"Look, Granger." Draco lowered his voice, in case anyone was listening in. "It's blatantly obvious that you like Weasley and Weasley likes you... I mean, for fuck's sake, even Vince has already noticed!"

"Um."

"Yes. Quite." He grinned. "But you're not going to get anywhere if you just sit around and wait, are you? So... seeing how you've got more balls than Weasley anyway, I suggest you just ask _him_ to the dance and get it over with."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, but shouldn't the boy ask the girl, normally?"

Now it was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Please... You're standing up for the rights of house-elves. You're fiercely independent and as emancipated as they come... and you still think it's the bloke who should make the first move? You disappoint me, Granger!"

She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again when she realized that the infuriating brat actually had a point, and a very strong one, at that.

"Right," she said.

She took a piece of parchment out of her bag and she scribbled:

_Ron,  
Would you be my date for the Summer Dance?  
Hermione._

_There,_ she thought, _that ought to do it_. And if her friend acted unpleasantly surprised or burst out laughing upon receiving it, she supposed she could always pass the whole thing off as a joke.

She took a deep breath and turned to face Draco again. He was now looking at her with obvious amusement.

"You do realize, don't you," she said sternly, "that if it turns out that you lied to me, Draco Malfoy, Voldemort and all his little helpers will be _nothing_ compared to my wrath when I finally get my hands on you?"

He smiled. "I'd be severely disappointed if the consequences were less than murderous, Hermione."

Then he watched how the girl stalked off in the direction of the Owlery, a very determined look on her face.


	58. The Summer Dance

This was very much like a bad case of déjà-vu.

A lot of blushing and giggling, plenty of toes being trod on and of course, the usual gossip that always added some extra spice to these events.

By the time Harry and Draco arrived, the Summer Dance was already in full swing. And even if this wasn't a formal event like the Yule Ball, most people had still gone to great lengths to look their absolute best.

For Harry and Draco that meant two black suits Narcissa had ordered especially from an exclusive tailor in London.

Truth be told, Harry felt he resembled something of a funeral director (minus the hat) in his present attire. So unlike Draco, he thought, who, wearing a very similar outfit, looked like he'd stepped right out of one of those old _Godfather_ films aunt Petunia was so besotted with.

Feeling a little foolish and very self-conscious, the Gryffindor followed his stylish boyfriend further into the room.

His feelings of unease soon faded when he caught sight of Hermione. She was dancing with Ron and they both seemed to be having the time of their lives.

_Finally_, Harry thought.

Grinning, he remembered the moment when Ron had received Hermione's note, how furiously the boy had blushed and how long it had then taken him to sprint all the way down from Gryffindor Tower to the library and accept the invitation.

Four minutes and twenty-five seconds exactly, if you must know, with a total of two students inadvertently knocked over and one teacher bumped into at full speed along the way. Said teacher had been a very unimpressed and extremely annoyed Snape, of course, because Murphy's Law was always ruthless, even to teenage Wizards.

Harry briefly looked around the room. A few other familiar couples were dancing as well - Pansy and Neville, Ginny and Blaise, Fleur and Cedric, Angelina and Fred...

Harry was mildly amused to discover that Viktor Krum had hooked up with Katie Bell, or was currently in the process of doing so.

Then Harry's eyes widened as he spotted another couple. He discreetly nudged his boyfriend's arm and whispered, "Um, Draco, is that _Snape_ dancing with your mother?"

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "So it is."

"Oh. I didn't know Snape could dance."

"Severus is a man of many talents and surprises, it seems," Draco said dryly. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing quite a bit of him at the Manor this summer too."

"Oh, so Narcissa's finally falling for his-"

"If you dare to say _charms_, Harry," Draco quickly cut him off, "I'm thumping you one in front of the whole school, just like in the good old days!"

Harry laughed. "No, that definitely wasn't the word I was trying to find,” he said and fast changed the subject. "Um, I take it you're not really into dancing?"

"Maybe later." Draco smiled. "Right now, I'd say the buffet looks rather inviting."

Harry agreed, immensely relieved that he wasn't expected to make an even bigger fool of himself just yet.

He'd never understood how he could be so skilled at Quidditch and flying, but at the same time, so embarrassingly clumsy when it came to pretty much everything else, and that definitely included dancing.

The two boys walked over to the large table.

"Who did you take to the Yule Ball, anyway?" Harry asked, grabbing a plate and filling it.

"Pansy," Draco said. "She was always my obvious choice for social occasions. Just like I used to be hers. Until Longbottom showed up, anyway. Those two do look very happy together, don't they?"

Harry glanced over at the couple and nodded.

"You know, Draco," he blurted out before he could stop himself, "you never did say why you decided to follow me that night."

Draco hesitated for a moment. Then he led Harry to one of the small tables alongside the dance floor. "I think we'd better sit down for this, don't you?"

The Gryffindor nodded and when they were seated, he asked with a slight tremor to his voice, "You... um, don't mind me bringing that up, do you?" He was starting to feel quite guilty, all of a sudden. What did he have to go and ask that for, anyway? So much had happened since the night of the Yule Ball. So many things had changed.

Harry nervously bit his bottom lip and waited for a response.

Draco sighed. "No," he finally said, "I suppose it does make sense that you'd ask now. Being here is sort of like coming full circle, isn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"Well... I suppose there was just something about the way you looked that night, like you were hurting, or needed help, I don't know. Or maybe I was just kind of intrigued and wanted at all costs to find out what you were up to. Lame though this will sound, I just knew I had to follow you, I couldn't... _not_."

"Yeah, well," Harry whispered after a few long moments, not knowing what else to say, "I'm very glad you did."

"I should hope so." Draco grinned and then, in an attempt to lighten the mood again, he playfully pinched the other boy's arm. "Prat!"

Harry smiled. He grabbed Draco's hand and wondered why he was suddenly feeling so sentimental.

He couldn't blame it on alcohol because he hadn't had any yet. Perhaps, it was the slow, soft music, or the fact that they were finally able to go somewhere as a real couple, no longer needing to hide the true nature of their relationship from other people.

Or maybe it was because he’d never known he could be so deeply and madly in love and sometimes it was still a little overwhelming.

"A Knut for your thoughts, Harry?" Draco grinned. "These nibbles are quite tasty, you know. You should try some."

"Sorry, I was miles away." He popped a canapé into his mouth.

"Yeah, I could tell."

They sat in silence for a few moments, holding hands, observing the crowd.

Some students were getting rather boisterous after one too many drinks, while a few couples quietly slipped out of the room, in search of somewhere more private.

"Just three more days to go now," Draco said, "and then... two whole months of freedom await."

"Yeah." Harry smiled. "It'll certainly be different."

He thought about that tiny room at the Dursleys' and tried to compare it to whatever spacious quarters that might be his at Malfoy Manor, a stately mansion he'd already heard so many spectacular things about.

Although he would have his own room there, he'd only be using it to store his belongings in. He'd be sleeping in Draco's bed. He didn't think he could still sleep without his boyfriend by his side and he certainly didn't want to, either. Funny, he thought, how you could get so deeply attached to someone so soon.

Harry's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Pansy and Neville's arrival.

"Hello boys!" the girl smiled. "Mind if we join you for sec?"

"Of course not, Pans," Draco said.

Neville pulled up two extra chairs. "So," Pansy began, plopping herself down. "Having a nice time, you two? I noticed you aren't dancing."

"We're quite happy where we are, thank you," Draco said with a grin. "Besides, we'd really hate to steal your limelight."

"In your dreams, Malfoy." Neville grinned back.

Draco shook his head in amusement. "So. Any interesting plans for the summer yet?"

"I'm going to spend the first week at Nev's place." Pansy beamed. "His grandmother wants to get to know me properly. It's a bit um... strange, but it'll be pleasant, I think." She grinned sheepishly.

"Gran will love and adore you, Pans," Neville assured her. “Don't worry."

"Of course she will," Draco said and nudged Harry under the table. Harry quickly nodded his agreement, causing Pansy to smile widely.

The four of them talked some more; mostly about summer, tests, the ghastly outfits of some of the female partygoers and of course, whether or not certain friends and acquaintances would finally end up together tonight.

The Weasley Twins had apparently started a pool on a potential romance between Gregory Goyle and Millicent Bullstrode. Draco, Pansy and Harry weren't the only ones horrified by the concept. Neville, on the other hand, found it all rather endearing.

"Right," Pansy said. "Nev, I think it's time to go and hit the floor again. That Abbot girl is getting far too much attention to my liking. And don't even get me started on that... _thing_ she calls a dress! So... Mister Longbottom, if you think you can handle it?"

"Try me." He grinned and they walked off again.

"So." Draco put his hand on Harry's knee and made slow circular movements with his thumb. "I take it you still don't feel like dancing?"

"Um. No." Harry blushed and wondered how such simple, light touches could suddenly give him butterflies in his stomach.

"Hm. In that case..." Draco grinned. "I could offer to go find somewhere to snog, seeing how that's apparently the done thing after a date, but then of course we already _have_ somewhere, so we don't really need to look..."

Harry grinned. He was starting to feel kind of giddy. "Are you propositioning me, Draco?"

"Perhaps. But first..."

Harry noticed that there was suddenly a serious tone to the other boy's voice. "First?" he repeated and he wondered why he felt a little nervous.

"Well, there's something else too," Draco said. He took a deep breath. He removed his hand from Harry's knee, and he reached for the small box in his vest pocket. "I know we're only fifteen, well, you're not even that before the end of next month, but I spoke to Mother, which was kind of embarrassing, actually, and... well, she agreed that I should give you a token of... well… us. Anyway..." He handed Harry the box. "That's for you."

Harry’s eyes widened. He quickly opened his present and discovered that it was a silver snake ring, an exact copy of the one Draco always wore.

"It's a friendship ring, or a promise ring. Or you could look at it as token of being symbolically sorted into Slytherin House, whichever you feel is the most appropriate."

Harry just stared at the ring in awe. This was just about the last thing he'd expected to happen tonight.

"You can charm it if it doesn't fit right," Draco said, unsure what to make of his boyfriend's silence, "or if you'd rather have something else..."

"No," Harry interjected quickly. "No, it's perfect! Just perfect. Thanks, Draco..." He leaned forward and kissed the other boy full on the lips, not caring who might be watching. "And I'll definitely look at it as a promise ring."

That last statement earned him a wide grin.

Harry put the ring on. It was a perfect fit for the third finger of his left hand. "So..." He smiled sheepishly. "You said something about wanting to go back to our room?"

Draco nodded and rose from his seat.

"You know," Harry remarked, "I'll be glad to get out of this suit. It's very classy, but not really comfortable. Um, no offense to your mum or anything."

"Well." Draco chuckled mischievously. "Good to hear that, Harry! Getting you out of that suit was definitely part of my plans for tonight, too, be it for slightly more selfish reasons."

When they left the ballroom hand in hand, they were both grinning.

* * *

Many hours later that night, Severus Snape, who never seemed to sleep, strode purposefully into the Shrieking Shack. He had an appointment with Barty Crouch Junior.

Not his first, either.

It hadn't taken Snape long to figure out who had assisted Dumbledore and Bellatrix in the latter's escape from Azkaban, nor had it cost him a lot of effort to track the man down and convince him that it would be in his best interests to cooperate.

The Potions Professor joined the former Dark Lord follower at the table and got straight to the point. "You have something to tell me, Mister Crouch?"

The man nodded. "There's a mass break-out planned at dawn."

"Most interesting," Snape said, folding his hands. "Involving Albus, I presume, or otherwise we wouldn't be here?"

"Yes. Him and some other people."

Severus rolled his eyes. "_Some other people_? How many more times do I have to ask you to kindly be specific?"

He took a deep breath. "MacNair, Nott, Dolohov, Jugson and Mulciber.”

"Charming little gathering. I'm impressed. And you are completely certain of this?"

"Yes. I got the information from Nott himself," Barty supplied proudly. "He thinks I'm going to help his son escape. And I also received confirmation from Stolivski. That's Mister Karakoff's associate, but erm, you probably know that."

"Indeed I do." Snape smirked. "Very well, Mister Crouch, in that case, if my plan to undermine this little venture works - and I see no reason to believe it shouldn't - you can consider your obligations to me fulfilled."

The man looked pleasantly surprised. "I... I'm... free to go?" he stammered.

Snape gave a curt nod. "That you are, Mister Crouch. You have proven yourself most useful. However..." He gave the man a meaningful look. "I would strongly suggest you leave British soil and never set foot on it again. After all, now that you are of no further use to me, I no longer have any incentive not to turn you over to the proper authorities, do I? Good day to you."

With that, Snape headed back to the castle.

An emergency Firecall to Amelia Bones was in order.


	59. Loose Ends

Harry smiled and snuggled closer to the warm body lying next to him. He'd had a wonderful night's sleep, even without the aid of one of Snape's vile-tasting brews.

"Finally awake, are we?" Draco grinned. He ruffled Harry's hair and kissed the boy’s forehead.

"Hm, as good as," Harry murmured. "What time is it?"

"A quarter past eleven."

"Wow? Really?"

"Here." Draco handed him his glasses. "Yes, really." He chuckled. "Looks like someone was rather worn out."

"Hm. And you weren't?" He let his thoughts drift back to last night and instantly felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks. After their return from the Dance, he and Draco had engaged in some pretty heavy 'experimenting'. It had been amazing, it always was when they were together, but Harry still felt a little shy when he thought about everything his boyfriend could make him feel and do.

Draco grinned. "Actually," he replied, resisting the urge to make Harry blush even harder, "I've been awake for a while now." He pointed at the book on the nightstand. "I've spent the past hour or so reading and watching you sleep. The nightmares are gone, I take it? You looked quite peaceful."

"Yeah." Harry smiled. "They're gone. Maybe because I don't have any real worries left?"

"Well, just as long as you don't start worrying about _that_, then." He gave the other boy a meaningful look. "I distinctly remember a conversation we had a few months ago, all about sense of purpose and direction, or lack thereof."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Um, I was kind of full-on, wasn't I?"

"You could say that." Draco smiled. "You know, I'm going to have a word with Snape tomorrow. Study orientation for next year and such."

"Oh?"

"You can come with me, if you'd like?"

"Hm. Maybe. Do you already know what you want to do after Hogwarts?"

Draco shrugged. "I've always enjoyed Potions, although I doubt I'd like teaching it very much."

"Well, you do excel at the subject."

Draco didn't argue. "And how about you? Any plans for after seventh year?"

Harry sighed. "Well, everyone always expected me to become an Auror, I guess. Provided I survived the confrontation with Voldemort, of course." He gave a wry smile. "But I'm a bit tired of fighting the bad guys, frankly. Maybe I should just retire and write my autobiography or something. It's not like we're desperate for money anyway, is it?"

"Hm, _The Life And Times Of Harry Potter_," Draco mused. "Nah. I'm thinking _The Draco Malfoy Story_ would sell a lot more copies. After all..." He grinned. "Everyone already knows everything there is to know about you. You're well on the way to becoming overexposed, I'd say. Whereas _moi_ ... well, I'm so much more mysterious and intriguing, aren't I?"

"Sure, Malfoy," Harry scoffed. “Not to mention humble and shy and full of self-doubt.”

Draco grinned and quickly ducked to avoid the pillow that was flung in his direction. "Come on," he said. "Time to get up, otherwise we'll miss lunch too. And I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely starving!"

* * *

When they arrived in the Great Hall, they were slightly surprised to find Ron and Hermione sitting at the Slytherin table with Pansy and Neville. The four of them were talking about their plans for the summer and the test scores they'd finally be told tomorrow.

Harry noticed that Ron was holding Hermione's hand. He didn't look like he wanted to let go any time soon, either.

"Hello boys." Pansy smiled when she caught sight of Harry and Draco. "Decided to rejoin the land of the living at last?"

"Um, yeah." Harry grinned.

"Where are Vince and Greg?" Draco asked, sitting himself down in his usual spot. "Or Blaise and Ginny, for that matter?"

"The first two are in the hospital wing nursing a spectacular hangover," Pansy said. "Be glad you missed that little drinking game between Slytherin and Ravenclaw last night. And Blaise and Ginny left for Hogsmeade early this morning."

"Hogsmeade?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "On a Sunday?"

Pansy shrugged. "Zabini's idea."

Snape strode past in the direction of the teachers' table.

"Hm," Harry observed, "he's looking rather smug, isn't he, Draco? I wonder if he and your mum..."

Draco's eyes widened in horror. "Don't say it, Potter! Sweet Salazar, don't even _think_ it!"

"Yeah, for once I fully agree with Malfoy." Ron made a face. "Really, Harry, people are _eating_ here."

Pansy giggled. Then she spotted the ring on Harry's finger. "Oh, what's that?" she asked, pointing at the silver band.

"Um. Draco gave it to me," Harry said. "It's... a Promise Ring." He blushed again, and Ron looking at him like that really wasn't helping matters, either.

"Oooh, how lovely!" Pansy cooed and then she suddenly remembering something. "Ah yes, that's another thing you missed last night. Professor Lupin's going to marry Sirius Black."

"Really?" Harry was pleasantly surprised, but also a little disappointed that Sirius hadn't told him yet.

Pansy nodded. "I heard him talking to McGonagall. She said she'd prefer Lupin to move to Gryffindor Tower next school year. After all, the Head of Gryffindor doesn't really belong in the Slytherin dungeons and so on and so forth. Then Lupin said he'd need big quarters because Black was living with him and they were going to get married and, well..." She grinned.

"Tsk, Pans." Draco smirked. "Eavesdropping on our teachers."

"Was not!" she protested. "I merely happened to be sitting close by and they weren't exactly whispering."

Draco shook his head. “Of course.”

Suddenly, a bunch of large owls flew into the room.

Newspapers were dropped on tables and then the birds soared out again.

_The Daily Prophet - Special Edition_

Quickly, Draco picked up the copy in front of him and started to read. Over his shoulder, Harry and Pansy read along.

  
_**Prison Break-out Thwarted!**  
Great Escape Turns To Great Tragedy - One Man Killed, Three Badly Wounded!_

In the early hours of Sunday morning, following up on a tip from an as yet undisclosed source, the Ministry Of Magic successfully prevented seven prisoners, six of whom convicted Death Eaters, from escaping Azkaban Prison.

Regrettably, during the inevitable struggle that occurred, one officer, David Durson (35 years old and a father of two), was badly injured. The man is currently being treated for second-degree burns and is said to be in a stable condition.

One prisoner, Antonin Dolohov, was instantly killed when his attempt at casting an Unforgivable backfired.

Two other prisoners were also injured in the process - Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, and convicted Death Eater Walden MacNair. They have both been moved to the prison's hospital ward.

According to one of the nurses, the two men are in a comatose state and their chances of recovery are slim to none.

This morning's attempted mass break-out was the first of its kind at Azkaban and security measures at the prison have now been significantly tightened.

When our reporter contacted the Ministry Of Magic earlier today, Mister Cornelius Fudge was said to be unavailable for comment.

  
Draco handed the newspaper to Hermione, while Harry and Pansy went back to their seats. Neither of them knew what to say or even think about this.

Draco, on the other hand, had a bit of a hunch. One that was instantly confirmed when he glanced over at his godfather.

Very briefly, their eyes met in complete understanding.

Draco would never ask and Snape would never tell, but life would now finally go on the way it should.


	60. Homeward Bound

The final day of Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry went by in a bit of a blur. Notwithstanding that certain parts of it would remain etched in his memory forever.

_Cho Chang glaring at him as she walked by, two of her Ravenclaw companions in tow. _

At least he was safe in the knowledge that the conniving bitch wouldn't be returning next year.

Those poor sods at Beauxbatons wouldn’t know what hit them.

_Fleur Delacour's overly enthusiastic farewell. _

She dazzled him with a smile. "Encore merci pour aider ma soeur dans le lac. You are a true 'ero, 'arry Potter," she said and pulled him into a huge hug.

_Cedric Diggory's announcement._

He'd be starting a new life in France, which was no real surprise anymore, even if it didn't make everyone happy.

"Father still isn't over the moon about my plans,” he told Harry, “although I suspect mother rather fancies a holiday in Marseilles. I'm sure all will work out in the end, though. Doesn't it always?"

_The sight of little Gabrielle waving at them just before she joined Cedric and her sister in the carriage headed for France._

"You have a new fan there, Harry." Draco laughed. "I foresee Valentine cards about poetically preserved amphibians in your immediate future," he added, doing a frighteningly convincing impression of Trelawney when she was still under the influence of Delirissum.

Harry was aptly stunned. "You knew about Ginny's card?"

"Please..." Draco rolled his eyes. "Get with the programme, Potter! I’ve had my eye on you for years, remember? I probably know more about your glorious Hogwarts history than you do yourself. And yes, in case you're wondering, that does include the Polyjuice incident as well."

Harry wasn't sure whether to gulp or grin sheepishly. Eventually, he settled for the latter.

_A tentative handshake between Ron and Draco._

"Have a good summer, Malfoy."

"Yeah, you too, Weasley."

_A brief moment of hesitation clouding Hermione's face._

It soon faded, however, and she wrapped her arms around her best friend's boyfriend, pulling the stunned Slytherin into a tight hug. "See you soon, Draco. Have a safe trip home."

She decided there and then that childish grudges were something to be left behind, now; buried alongside much more serious concerns, like the impending threat of a world under Voldemort's reign.

_The huge hug Harry, himself received from Pansy Parkinson._

A few moments earlier, the girl had clung to Draco; a little too intensely, to the Gryffindor's liking.

Not that Harry was jealous or possessive or anything of the sort, of course. No, certainly not. It was just the principle of the matter. Draco was _his_ boyfriend, not Parkinson's, end of story.

_Shaking hands with Crabbe and Goyle._

If anyone had told Harry a year ago that some day soon, he'd consider the duo he'd always referred to as _Malfoy's henchmen_ his friends, he'd have shouted for Madame Pomfrey right away.

Then again, he wouldn't have expected Ginny Weasley to hook up with a Slytherin, either.

And yet, there she was, walking hand and hand with Blaise Zabini.

No doubt, the poor boy would be at the receiving end of one of Molly's infamous inquisitions the minute he got off the train. Not that he wouldn't be able to handle it, Harry thought. After all, Slytherins were brilliant at gracefully talking their way through pretty much anything.

_Remus and Sirius' promise to visit Malfoy Manor whenever they could._

"I have to make sure my cousin is keeping you in the manner to which you should be accustomed," Sirius joked. "Then for the last two weeks of August, you and your little Malfoy can enjoy the luxury of _our_ renovated home and compare."

_Snape kissing Narcissa, and promising her that he too would be making a trip to the Manor soon. _

And truly, no one needed to witness that.

* * *

When Harry finally left Hogwarts Grounds, it was in a chauffeured black limousine that had been hired especially for the occasion.

Everyone had been stunned when the former Mrs. Malfoy had insisted on this Muggle means of transportation, but her wish to travel in a quiet, private manner had been granted soon enough.

After all, even with Lucius out of the picture, refusing Narcissa anything was still considered a generally bad idea if you valued your life and limbs.

Leaning back in the comfortable seat, Harry recalled Hermione's words from earlier that day.

_"Everything's going to change now, isn't it?"_

At the time, he'd just nodded. He'd been a little too preoccupied with everything going on around him to really think about it.

But now, as he rested his head against the shoulder of his former rival, the boy he'd grown to love so much in such a short period of time, he decided that Hermione had been absolutely right – as usual.

In truth, Harry really didn't have a clue what to expect from the school year that awaited him after the summer. He did, however, have a pretty good idea of what _not_ to expect.

It was enough to make him happier than he'd been in absolutely ages.

* * *

**One month later**

Harry quickly checked himself in the antique full-length mirror.

He decided that his present outfit, black jeans and a green shirt, wasn't at all bad, really. Now if only he could get his damned stubborn hair to cooperate as well, then he might just pass for _presentable_.

He shook his head in annoyance.

No matter how many spells he tried on that unruly mop of his, it still remained untameable as ever. But seeing a certain Slytherin had threatened him with both grievous bodily harm and a thorough hexing if he had it cut shorter like he'd planned... Well, this would just have to do then, wouldn't it?

"Honestly, Potter." Said Slytherin grinned, as he entered the spacious room they'd been sharing for the past month. "And people call _me_ vain... If you don' t make a dash, you'll be late for the party. And we can't exactly get started without the guest of honour, can we?"

"Oh. Everyone's already arrived?"

Draco nodded. "All invited guests, including Granger's parents and a whole clan of Weasleys. Father must be turning in his muddy grave as we speak. So..." He held out his hand. "Shall we?"

They headed downstairs.

In the corridor leading to Malfoy Manor's impressive ballroom, Draco paused for a moment. "Ah, yes." He smirked. "Seeing I can't really do this in front of an audience… Well, not without thoroughly embarrassing you, at any rate." He pulled his boyfriend into a tight embrace. "Happy birthday, Harry," he whispered and kissed him deeply. "I love you."

Harry smiled, running his fingers through the silky, blonde hair he couldn't get enough of. "I love you too, Draco."

They shared another lingering kiss before they finally joined the partygoers.

And when Harry entered the crowded room, holding on to his boyfriend's hand and taking in all the happy, smiling faces that were now looking in their direction, he decided he was really going to enjoy being fifteen.

  
** _THE END_ **


End file.
